


I'm Not an Evil Sorceress

by TFTaxonomist



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Elves, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Furry TF, Harems, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Internalized Homophobia, Knights - Freeform, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Princesses, Romance, Slow TF, Slow Transformation, Sorceresses, TF, Trans-inclusive, Transformation, Useless Lesbians, anthro tf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:35:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFTaxonomist/pseuds/TFTaxonomist
Summary: Princess Adalind is miserable. She's caught in an arranged marriage, kept apart from the woman she loves, and can't even study magic openly for fear of being branded a wicked enchantress. But her problems reach a whole new level when she runs afoul of the Dark Sorceress, Phaedra, who is everything Adalind has vowed never to be. As she finds herself being pulled under the witch's spell, though, she has to wonder, is being a plaything of the Dark Sorceress really so bad? And could it be that Phaedra isn't all her reputation says she is?
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Sapphic harem
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12





	1. The Witching Markets

Adalind clutched the cloak tightly around her neck. Not against the cold—the night was surprisingly warm for autumn, the heat of late summer having yet to give way to the oncoming chill. But she knew that the Witching Markets were no place for a princess. It was only desperation that had driven her to them to the first place. Desperation, and, admittedly, curiosity.

She had grown up hearing the tales of the traveling markets of the Fair Folk. Open only deep into the night, never found in the same place for more than one night each year, it was said you could find nearly anything there, for the right price. Adalind had no desire to bargain with the Folk; she knew from the stories that their price was often too terrible to pay. But human traders, usually powerful sorcerers that were reckless enough not to fear the fae, also held shop there, she knew, and they could be bought with more worldly things. Things Adalind had a ready supply of.

Everyone knew the places in any given town that the Markets would appear. Usually, they appeared in run-down and abandoned areas with minimal habitation. Most often, as was the case with the Vernian capital, the entrance was near a crossroads. Adalind knew the spot. She’d never been down the alley in question, but was fairly certain that on any other day, it didn’t lead anywhere in particular.

Now, though, was a different story. As she stepped around the corner, she found herself in a part of town she was quite sure had not been there during the daylight hours. The alleyway opened up into a street, lined on either side by stalls selling wares of all kinds. A fragrant but cloying scent filled the air, burning at Adalind’s nostrils. Pedestrians and shoppers both human and distinctly inhuman filled the street. Adalind pulled her cloak closer again. Rumor had it that this place existed between worlds, partially in the mortal realm, and partially Underhill. It was said that those who wandered too deep might not come back. Adalind supposed that, if she was to have any luck of finding what she sought, she would need help.

She cautiously approached the nearest stall that was empty of customers. It was attended by an elderly woman with bluish-grey hair, whose attention was halfway focused on the knitting in her hands. Similar finished products were hung on racks beside her, various articles of clothing with stitched patterns Adalind vaguely recognized from her studies as magical in nature.

Adalind paused, waiting for the woman to say something, but she merely continued knitting. After a few moments, Adalind spoke up.

“Um, excuse me, but is there somewhere I might go for information, like a map or directory of the markets?”

The woman turned her gaze on Adalind, revealing w-shaped pupils ringed by iridescent irises, and the princess realized that this woman was of the Folk.

“Such things are not easy to come by,” the woman said, “But I might be able to direct you, for a price. What is it that you seek?”

Adalind pulled her cloak around herself instinctively. “What sort of price?”

The woman gave a hollow laugh. “Relax, child. I would not ask payment of you before I know if I can provide. Besides, your heritage confers you some degree of protection here, though I would advise against getting complacent if you wander too deep.”

“My heritage?” Adalind asked flatly. Somehow, she knew the woman didn’t mean her royal pedigree. She moved to check her ears, but they were still well-hidden within the cloak.

“Yes, I know what—and who—you are,” the fae woman said, chuckling. “I can smell the scent of the Folk upon you, elf.”

Adalind took a deep breath. “I’m looking for a way to change my fate.”

The fae woman raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? I may just know where you can find what it is you seek. What will you offer me in exchange for the information?”

“I’m not giving you my soul. Or my name, or anything else metaphysical,” Adalind said firmly.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking for it. You should be careful, though, whom you take that tone with. Not all of my kind are as understanding as I am, child.”

“I’m not a child. I’m nearly twenty.”

The fae woman laughed now, a full-throated, genuine laugh. “I have lived for centuries. You have lived for not quite a fifth of one. You may have the blood of the Folk, elf, but you are still human, and all humans are as children before my kind.” She smiled. Somehow, the fae woman made even that simple gesture deeply unsettling. “Now, what else do you have to offer me? You must have _something_.”

Adalind opened her bag and rifled through it. She had coins, a couple of jewels, a pocket watch, a quill and some ink, and a compass. She withdrew the watch, an artfully-made instrument of bronze inlaid with gold, and placed it on the counter. It was true that she needed to pay close attention to the time, but she wasn’t firmly convinced it would tell the time faithfully down here in the Witching Markets, anyway. The fae woman looked past the watch, however, staring at the opened bag. Adalind followed her gaze.

“The quill?” She asked, surprised. She carefully withdrew it from the bag and placed it on the counter. The old woman gingerly picked up the watch, and handed it back to Adalind, who replaced it in her bag. The fae woman picked up the quill lightly between two fingers and twirled it around, smiling deviously.

“Alright,” she said, “Now, we can begin.” She turned around and placed the quill in some unseen hiding spot, then began shuffling through her supplies. She withdrew two small flasks and poured the liquid contents of one into another. She mumbled a nearly imperceptible incantation, and stirred the larger flask with a twig. She poured some of the contents—surprisingly, a dry-looking powder—onto her hand, and sniffed it carefully. She gave a nod. “Give me that compass.”

Adalind raised her brow. That compass was rather on the rare side. But she supposed she shouldn’t have expected that a common quill would be sufficient payment. Trying not to let her disappointment show, she handed the compass to the vendor.

To her surprise, though, the woman merely blew a little of the dust onto the lid of the compass, before tapping it with a long, yellowed nail. Adalind could swear the compass glowed faintly, just for an instant. The woman returned the compass to Adalind.

“The lodestone will guide you to the one you seek, child. Do not linger in the deeper markets, and do not let your guard down.”

“Of course,” Adalind said. She nearly thanked the old woman, before remembering that she was fae. Instead, she carefully nodded. “Good day, ma’am.”

The old woman merely nodded in return, and resumed knitting.

Adalind stepped aside and raised the compass. The needle spun wildly for a moment, and then settled in a direction that she was distinctly sure was _not_ north. Instead, it pointed down the street and further into the markets. Adalind briefly wondered whether the compass was ruined, but supposed it was a matter to worry about later. For now, she had a shop to find.

Adalind followed the compass further and further into the depths of the Witching Markets. She passed many different curious and wonderful sights, and it pained her not to stop. Some vendors sold food, the air thick with the pungent aroma of spices and sweets. Some sold textiles, clothes, and fiber. Others sold far stranger things. A few times, she came upon stalls containing beasts of sorts she had never laid eyes upon: long-tailed birds with sharp teeth, swimming scorpions nearly the size of a human, apes with the heads of horses. Once, she came across a stall selling strange and exotic plants, and the flowers smelled so sweet that she had to force herself away. Many vendors sold antiques, and some sold what looked to Adalind like old trash. And of course, there were numerous stalls selling magical objects. Those were the hardest to stay away from. Potions, elixirs, staves, amulets; even enchanted weapons and armor. Adalind couldn’t believe that she was surrounded by all this magical knowledge, and she didn’t have the time to take in any of it.

The clientele who shopped the markets were no less strange or varied. There were many who were human, or at least who looked human enough to Adalind, but there were also many who were unmistakably of the Folk. Elves like her were rare even here, but goblins, ogres, satyrs, imps, and many far stranger forms abounded. A man with no head spoke in signs to a glimmering sprite. A creature made of shadows haggled with a sea-nymph. A woman with tentacles for limbs mixed a foul-smelling liquid in an enormous pot.

Adalind continued to follow the compass deeper into the markets. Every once in a while, the arrow would abruptly shift direction, leading her down some side street or alley before realigning to the general direction it had pointed before. Sometimes she worried it was merely drawing her in circles, but she had yet to see the same place twice, and she felt fairly confident about her mental map of her journey so far. Still, it did seem to invariably be drawing her deeper into the markets, an observation that worried her.

Things only got stranger as she went deeper. There were fewer humans, and the fae and innumerable other magical creatures she encountered were less and less human. The stalls sold increasingly stranger goods, and for many shops, she couldn’t even identify the contents. Once, she came across a unicorn, held down by faerie men holding glittery iridescent chains. Another time, she glanced down an alley and thought she saw centaurs in cages. She hurried her pace after that.

After a while, she noticed that things seemed to be more recognizable again. She definitely hadn’t been this way, but she was seeing more humans, and more normal sights. Her relief began to fade, however, as she realized that the compass seemed to be leading her toward a dead end. As she reached the edge of a street, the stalls became scarcer, until the street emptied entirely. Just as she was on the verge of turning around, the needle swung sharply to the left, revealing a staircase down into an alleyway she hadn’t seen before. Cautiously, she stepped down the stairs.

Set into a deep recess in the wall was a long stall, over which hung a sign labeled _Vosrian_ _Spellcraft._ Beneath that were characters in two other languages, one of which Adalind recognized only from its predominance here in the markets—perhaps a fae tongue? The name was curious. Vosria was an ancient name for the Kingdom of Vernia. She had mostly seen it in scholarly contexts. Perhaps the owner of the shop knew their stuff. She would hope so, since the compass led her here.

To one end of the counter sat a rack filled with various potions, behind which sat a bubbling cauldron. At the other end was another rack, this one containing various jewelry and baubles. More goods of a similar nature were visible on shelves against the wall of the building, and there were even a number of staves and scepters hanging on the wall. At the front of the counter was a small bell. Carefully, Adalind picked it up and gave it a single ring before returning it to the counter.

“Just a minute!” came a surprisingly perky feminine voice from around a corner. Moments later, the owner of that voice emerged from a doorway in the side of the building. She seemed to glide unnaturally over the floor, and it quickly became apparent why: the woman was plainly fae, or at the very least some other sort of magical creature. Her entire lower section, from her hips on down, was one long serpentine tail. She had scaled skin striped black and tan, and a cobra’s hood framing her short brown hair. Pale plated scutes ran up her neck, stopping just short of her chin. Her nose seemed to be flattened into the profile of her skull, leaving her with not much exterior structure beyond slits, though it was slightly offset by a very subtle protrusion of the face.

To Adalind’s embarrassment, she realized that the snake woman wasn’t wearing much: merelyblack wrappings surrounding her surprisingly ample chest and, oddly enough, her broad hips. Adalind wasn’t sure she’d ever seen another woman so scantily dressed in her entire adult life, and considering what had driven her here, she was sure she must be visibly blushing.

Her attraction to the strange woman aside, Adalind was frustrated. _Was_ this woman fae? She had thought she’d made it clear that she didn’t wish to bargain with the fae more than absolutely necessary. She hoped she hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Still, perhaps the snake woman was willing to accept Vernian currency. It was worth asking.

“Um…” Adalind began, uncertain.

“What can I do for you today?” The snake woman asked, sounding chipper.

Adalind took a deep breath and steeled herself. _I can do this._ “I’m seeking a way to change my fate. I’m told this is the place to inquire.”

The snake woman’s eyes widened. “Oh! I’m afraid that is quite beyond _me_. It’s Mistress Phaedra _you’re_ seeking. Wait here, please. I’ll fetch her.”

Adalind felt herself go coldas the serpentine girl slithered away. Phaedra. She knew that name. Any Vernian did. Gods, this poor girl was no fae; she was human. Or had been, once.

Given her complicated relationship with her own feelings, as well as her own interest in magic, Adalind didn’t like to think about the stories. No one knew exactly who she was or where she came from, but everyone feared her. The Dark Sorceress, Phaedra, was a wicked temptress who would approach young maidens, tricking them into making bargains with her. The end result was always the same. By the time she had finished toying with them, they would be fully changed into her monstrous playthings, willing, loyal, and obedient servants to her twisted desires. Not even men were safe, though her preferences were more than apparent, as they were invariably converted into dutiful beast-women. Spellcasters like Phaedra were exactly the reason Adalind had to keep her interest in magic a secret. They had fully embraced the corruption that was risked by anyone who dabbled too deeply in the gifts of the fae.

 _What have I done?_ She had made a terrible mistake by coming here, she realized. The Dark Sorceress was as dangerous as any faerie. Even were Adalind’s very soul not at risk in this place, she wanted nothing to do with the likes of this foul witch. Should she run? Flee this place and never look back? She was probably already lost, she knew. Besides, what if the enchantress took offense? She would suffer an even worse fate than most of her victims. But then again, wasn’t she doomed, anyway? She had to make a break for it.

The instant the resolve crossed her mind, it faded, as the sorceress herself came around the corner. Technically, Adalind supposed that the sorceress was wearing considerably more than her servant. She wore an elegant black dress with long, billowing sleeves. Still, between her ample cleavage and the multiple windows near the waistline that exposed plenty of midriff, Adalind felt that the woman’s dress didn’t leave much more to the imagination than the naga’s had. Her figure was just as curvaceous, and her skin looked _so_ soft. She wore wickedly enticing black lipstick, and faint purplish eyeshadow, and her black hair was cut in an incredibly cute bob, which was framed by a circlet adorned with a single green jewel in the middle of her forehead. Adalind couldn’t keep herself from staring.

“Hello,” the enchantress said, “What can I do for you today?”

“Um…”

“I’m told you’re seeking a way to change your fate? If you fill me in on the specifics, I can see what I can do for you. Depending on what you had in mind, that could be a tall order, or it could be trivially simple.”

Adalind sighed. _Don’t let yourself be entranced by this witch._ “My father wishes for me to marry, but I already love another. I’m looking for a way out of the marriage.”

Phaedra smiled. “That’s all? That should be doable.”

“I don’t want to mess with anyone’s minds. I just want out of the engagement.”

“Don’t worry. This kind of spell can’t make anyone do anything they wouldn’t normally. It just latches onto existing and likely possibilities. It can’t even discern differences in possible futures based on people’s thoughts and actions. It’s limited to deterministic events, not the whims of mortals. Basically, it’s a targeted luck spell. It’s still tricky to make, though, so it’s going to cost you.”

Adalind reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of coins and gems. She placed them on the counter.

Phaedra’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That’s a lot. Yeah, that’ll definitely do it. Just, this isn’t your whole life’s savings or something, is it?”

“I have more,” Adalind said. “How does this work?”

“I don’t need much more from you,” Phaedra said, collecting the payment and putting it in a box behind the counter. “Just two things. One, is there any more detail you want to add about what you want? The more I know, the more precise I can be.”

Adalind felt herself go flush. “Uh, um, no, I think that’s pretty much the gist of it.”

Phaedra raised her brow but didn’t comment further on Adalind’s response. “Alright, then I’ll just need something of yours to mark the spell. A lock of hair will do fine.” She picked up a knife from behind the counter and offered it to Adalind hilt-first.

Adalind took it. Internally, she was panicking. _Oh, gods, what does she want the hair for? That’s so weird. I feel like I might as well be bargaining with the fae. She’s probably going to keep it and use it to find me later._ Trying not to let her face betray her internal turmoil, though, she grabbed hold of a few strands of coppery hair and chopped them off with the knife.

Phaedra took the hair and the knife. “Alright, then, I’ll just be a few minutes. Wait here, please. Unless you particularly wanted to browse the other nearby shops?”

Adalind shook her head. Truth be told, she desperately wanted to browse, but she knew it would be too dangerous.

Phaedra turned and called back into the building. “Belinda? I need to go get this spell ready. Binding it to a potion seems simplest in these circumstances. Do you mind tending the stall and keeping our guest company while I work?”

“Coming, Mistress!” the snake girl called. She slithered back out as the sorceress retreated around the corner. The naga smiled at Adalind, who felt herself go warm.

For a few minutes, they stood that way in awkward silence, Adalind trying not to stare at Belinda. After a time, Belinda cleared her throat. “So, is this your first visit to the Witching Markets?”

“Oh, um, yes, actually,” Adalind said, startled at the unexpected question.

“I trust you know not to linger in the depths? They can be pretty dangerous for mortals.”

“Of—of course,” Adalind stammered.

“Sorry, just making conversation,” Belinda said.

They were quiet for another few minutes. Something was eating at Adalind, though. She knew she shouldn’t pry, but she was curious despite herself. She spoke up. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Belinda asked, scrunching her face up in confusion.

“You know,” Adalind said, “Being… with her?”

Belinda brightened up. “Oh, Mistress Phaedra is wonderful! I’ve never been happier in my life. I get to experience all kinds of amazing things I never could have even dreamed of before. Just look at this! We’re in the Witching Markets! I wouldn’t have dared, in my previous life, but now I actually _belong_ here.”

“You don’t miss your old life?” Adalind asked.

“Why would I? It was so boring. And I’ve learned _so_ much about magic.”

“ _You have?_ ” Adalind asked in a whisper. As terrifying as Phaedra was, Adalind could scarcely imagine the wealth of knowledge a sorceress of her caliber must possess on the arcane arts.

“Ahem.” Phaedra cleared her throat from behind Belinda.

“Oh, you’re back! Sorry, Mistress, I’ll get out of your way here.” Belinda started to slither back into the building, but turned back in Adalind’s direction briefly. “Oh, it was nice meeting you. I’ll see you later!”

Phaedra waited for the naga to return to the building, then stepped forward and held out a flask of pink liquid. “Here you go. Just drink this whenever you’re ready to cast the spell. Thanks for your patronage!”

Adalind took it carefully, and looked down at her bag, uncertain.

“Go ahead. The bottle is sealed, and it has a temporary cushioning spell, so it shouldn’t break for the next day or so unless you take a hammer to it or something. Unless you’d like a separate bag? Normally, I’d charge extra for that, but I think you’ve got it covered.”

“Um, no thank you, that’s fine,” Adalind said.

“Then at least take this,” Phaedra said, handing Adalind a scrap of parchment with some strange characters on it. “It’s a quick way out of the Markets. It’s getting late, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost. Just take it through one of the gates in the plaza to the north of here, and you’ll be back in the city proper.”

“North?” Adalind asked. She wasn’t sure if normal directions applied here, and even if they did, her compass was probably broken.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’ve been here long enough, I forget it can be disorienting for newcomers. That way.” She gestured further down the alley.

“Oh, um, okay,” Adalind said. She turned to go. “It was pleasant meeting you.” It wasn’t totally a lie. Even now, the sorceress was distractingly pretty.

“Likewise!” Phaedra said. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

Adalind froze for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued down the alley.

Phaedra picked up a gem and studied it. Lapis lazuli. Could you even get that on this continent? Who just had that in their purse? Was that girl nobility or something? Not that she was complaining. It was a useful spell ingredient.

“It will be time to close up shop soon. Ready to go home?”

Phaedra jumped. “Ah! You startled me, Bel’.”

“Sorry!” she said. “Oh, wow, is that what she gave us for the potion?”

“Yeah,” Phaedra said. “I have to admit, it’s kind of bothering me. Those gems alone were probably her most valuable possessions. I hope that spell is worth it to her.”

“Wasn’t that the princess?”

“Wait, what?” Phaedra whirled around. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. She had the same birthmark below her eye and everything.”

Phaedra put her hands to her mouth, aghast. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy you probably didn’t clean out her coffers.”

“Belinda, we are talking the princess of _Vernia_ , right?”

“Yeah.”

“So the Vernian royal family are elves.”

“What difference does that make?”

“Come on, Bel’, you know how touchy my magic is. I made that potion _for a human._ Which technically she is, sure, but she’s got a natural magical affinity from her ancestry. Who knows what the side effects could be?”

“Ooh,” Belinda winced, “Ah, maybe we should try to catch her?”

Phaedra shook her head. “No good. I gave her an escape voucher.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s getting late! I didn’t want her to get spirited away and sold off at some slave auction Underhill! You said it yourself, Bel’, it’s almost dawn.”

Belinda looked contemplative. “Would you like me to try to infiltrate the castle in disguise and get it away from her?”

“What? No. I won’t put you in harm’s way on such a foolish errand. By the time you got there, she’d have already drunken it. Besides, we’ve got enough on our plate. Just keep an ear to the ground, okay? I’m sure we’ll hear if something happens.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you heard anything else from Dalia?”

“Her parents are still pushing pretty hard for her to get married. We really need to get her out of there, but I think her father’s onto us. Heh, maybe I should have made that potion for her.”

“Why don’t you?”

“The situation’s way too sensitive for that. The stakes are too high. If something went wrong, that kind of magic could make things worse.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be pretty bad.”

“We can do it, Bel’. Dalia will join us soon.”

“Mmm. I hope you’re right, Mistress.”

A knock on her bedroom door brought Adalind out of her slumber. She groaned and turned over.

“Your Highness? Are you alright?”

“Go away, Serra,” Adalind mumbled. After last night, she was in no mood to deal with people first thing in the morning, even her ladies-in-waiting.

“Lady Scola asked us to check on you,” Zella said. “She says you missed your morning lesson.”

“What? It can’t possibly be that late, can it?” Adalind asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. Sure enough, the sunlight streaming through her window was clearly that of late morning.

“It’s nearly midday, Your Highness,” Serra said. “May we come in?”

“Go ahead,” Adalind said. She was fairly certain she had hidden the potion well enough.

Zella stepped in, followed by Serra. “Oh, my. Your Highness, you look tired.”

“I don’t think I slept very well last night,” Adalind said.

“That would certainly explain why you slept in so late,” Serra said. “Did you want to take lunch here, or in the dining hall?”

“The dining hall is fine,” Adalind said. She got up from the bed, and her ladies-in-waiting moved to help her get dressed.

“Did you have a particular outfit in mind for today?” Zella asked.

“Not really,” Adalind said. “Feel free to choose one.”

Zella and Serra set about their work, and soon, Adalind was dressed in a relatively simple purple casual dress with puffy sleeves. Adalind looked at herself in the mirror as they did the finishing touches on her frizzy red hair. Her dense curls were unmanageable at the best of times, so she supposed she should be thankful that her ladies-in-waiting were as talented at managing them as they were. Truth be told, though, her feelings on Zella and Serra ranged from nervousness to apathy from day-to-day. She supposed she considered them friends, but realistically speaking, they were just well-paid servants.

She wished it could be different. She wished she had a close confidant that she could share her fears and troubles with. Especially now. But no. How could she be open about any of it? Only Viera knew about Adalind’s interest in the forbidden study of magic, and Adalind dared not tell even her the truth about her… other inclinations.

She still remembered the look of revulsion on Katia’s face all those years ago, when she found out the truth. She had resigned within a week. Adalind counted herself lucky that no one else ever inquired as to _why_ the girl left her post as Lady-in-Waiting to the princess of Vernia so abruptly. Though she suspected that Katia had confided in Caryn, as she had also left soon after. After that, Adalind had absolutely no desire to repeat the experience with their replacements. No, she was resigned to being lonely. She sighed.

“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Serra asked.

“No, it’s nothing,” Adalind said. “Just… thinking about life and love and such things, I suppose.”

“Your wedding to Prince Sverre is coming up,” Zella said. “Are you ready?”

“Not really,” Adalind mumbled.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness; I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful bride,” Serra said.

“I suppose,” Adalind said uncertainly.

“There, I think you’re ready, Highness,” Zella said. “Just in time for lunch, too.”

“You two go on without me,” Adalind said. “I’ll be along; I just have a personal matter to attend to.”

“Oh?” Serra said curiously.

“Yes, of course, Your Highness,” Zella said. She curtsied and departed, Serra following.

Adalind waited a moment, then went to her nightstand and opened the drawer. Lifting the bottom out revealed a hidden compartment in the drawer that contained her magical paraphernalia, including books scrolls, a few miscellaneous relics, and the compass, which she was longing to examine more closely when she had the time.

It also contained the potion she had gotten from the Dark Sorceress. It glowed an eerie, deep-pink light. She should probably dispose of it. She knew she couldn’t simply pour it down the drain. Could she just shatter the glass once the cushioning enchantment wore off? No, that would just create a mess that had to be cleaned up. Besides, she’d heard terrible stories. According to rumor, one of Phaedra’s victims had once tried to destroy a potion given to her by the Dark Sorceress, realizing what it was. When the glass shattered, it erupted into an unstoppable beast of pure magic that never rested until its purpose was carried out. Perhaps she could take it to the Temple priests. No. She couldn’t do that. They would ask questions. Like where she got it. And why.

There was only one thing to do. It was staying right where it had been, tucked away in a drawer. With luck, the spell would fade with time.

She wouldn’t marry Sverre, but she didn’t need a spell for that. She would come up with another plan. She hoped.

Besides, even if she did, she’d at least have Viera by her side, right?

A cool wind blew through the trees of palace gardens. Cast in the golden light of late afternoon, Adalind sat, nearly motionless as a statue. How could she focus on her weaving in these circumstances? Her mind was swirling in a storm of troubled thoughts. The flask. The wedding. Her love. She sighed and pulled another strand through her loom. Back and forth. Back and forth. She wove the strands back and forth. Back and forth. Should she confess her feelings? Which was worse, that her love might never know the truth, or that she might know and shun her for it? Back and forth.

Perhaps she ought to talk to Sverre himself. The Ibyrnians were reasonable people. Sverre himself seemed like a good enough man. He wasn’t the one who was pushing this marriage, though. It was their parents. Even though she knew it was selfish of her, Adalind wished she had more siblings that her parents could afford to use as bargaining chips in their political alliances. Alas, it was just her and Kenrick.

She put down her weaving. Perhaps she _should_ go to the Temple. Not to dispose of the potion, but to seek guidance. On the other hand, the problem arose again: what if they started asking questions? If the full truth came out, and her father caught wind of it, she had no idea how he’d react. What if he stripped Viera of her knighthood? That would be completely unfair to her. Adalind didn’t even know if Viera returned her feelings. They had always been friends, but…

A faint sound of hoofbeats brought Adalind out of her musings.

She left her loom on the bench and walked over to the edge of the garden balcony. A young woman in light armor approached on horseback. She had foregone a helmet, and had her chestnut hair tied back in a bun. She brought her horse to a trot and grinned up at Adalind.

“Your Highness! I thought I might find you here!”

“Dame Viera!” Adalind called. “I was just thinking of you!”

“Oh yeah? Only good things, I hope?” Viera responded.

Adalind giggled.“What are you doing here, Viera?”

“I thought it had been too long since we went for a ride. Interested?”

“Of course!” Adalind said. “Just let me see if I can slip out. Meet you at the southeast entrance.”

A few minutes later, Adalind stepped out into the shade to the southeast of the palace.

“Your disguise is impeccable, as always,” Viera said teasingly.

Adalind put up the hood of her cloak. “Ride fast, and no one will recognize me. As always.”

Viera offered Adalind a hand and boosted her up onto the horse behind her. Sitting sidesaddle felt rather precarious, but that was where the fun of it came in.

“Hold on tight, Your Highness,” Viera said. Adalind wrapped her arms tightly around Viera’s midsection, and they were off.

Viera had been assigned to protect Adalind when they were sixteen. The king had wanted a female knight to do the job so as to avoid any sparks of attraction between them. For Adalind’s part, at least, that plan had backfired spectacularly. Viera was assigned as Adalind’s guard whenever she left the castle in an official capacity, as well as for many formal functions within the castle. As far as Adalind knew, the king wasn’t aware of these little outings they made, and she hoped to keep it that way.

“Where are we going?” Adalind asked.

“I was thinking we’d keep it short, since it’s getting late. Maybe just a quick ride along the edge of town?”

“That sounds nice,” Adalind said.

Adalind shivered as the cool air flew by them. Summer was coming to an end. Soon, the leaves would begin changing colors. Already, here and there were patches of leaves in shades of gold. Thankfully, Viera was warm. Adalind snuggled closer. She breathed deeply and took in the knight’s sweet floral scent.

They were mostly quiet as they passed through town. Adalind watched as the houses and trees flew by. The bustle of the city was coming to a quiet close as shopkeepers closed up and returned home for the evening. She could smell the scent of food cooking in some of the houses as they passed by, and elsewhere, the scent of woodsmoke permeated the air.

Finally, they came to the westgate of the city and passed through. Viera shifted the horse off to the south and rode along the city’s walls. Adalind shifted to the right to look off into the hills, still leaning her head on Viera. Finally, they diverted from the path and rode up a small hill, giving a spectacular view of the surrounding valley and the setting sun. Viera brought her horse to a stop and got down, offering Adalind a hand. She took it and they stood together on the hilltop, gazing at the forest below.

“This is so peaceful,” Adalind said.

“Yeah. I’m going to miss it.”

“Miss it?” Adalind asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re getting married soon. I can come out here on my own, of course, but it won’t be the same on my own. Maybe someday, I’ll get… _someone_ to share this with. But it’ll never be quite the same.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Adalind asked, surprised.

“Why would I?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my personal bodyguard?”

“Your Highness, I think that’s supposed to be Prince Sverre’s responsibility, once you two are married. He has his own knights, I’m sure.”

Adalind sighed in disappointment, glancing down. “Oh, Viera, I simply can’t marry that man.”

“Wait, what?” Concern was evident on Viera’s face. “What are you talking about, Adalind?”

“It’s too much,” Adalind said quietly. “I can’t give up everything and—and every _one_ I love just to marry a man I _don’t_ love.”

Panic was apparent on the knight’s face now. “No, no! Please, Your Highness. Don’t throw this away on _my_ account. Please, be serious. I—I’m not worth it. You’re meant for greater things. You’ll be a queen someday! It’s your destiny to rule over all of Ibyrnia.”

“Maybe I don’t _want_ to rule Ibyrnia,” Adalind said, looking away. Her eyes felt wet.

Viera sighed. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

Adalind wiped her eyes. “Yes, let’s.”

They were quiet for a moment. Viera pointed down into the valley, fading into shadows as night fell. “What do you think’s down there?”

Despite herself, Adalind gave a slight laugh. “Other than the bridge and the meadow we always used to visit?”

“Yeah. What about the woods beyond?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been there. I think if you go off to the west in that direction, you eventually reach the swamp. Beyond that, isn’t it just the deep woods?”

“Those woods used to scare me so much when I was little.”

“I think you mentioned that once before,” Adalind said. “I still can’t believe it. You, scared.” _I could never be afraid with you by my side to protect me._

“Hey, I was a kid once just like everyone else. Besides, there are monsters in the wilderness. You can’t be too careful.”

“Oh, look!” Adalind gasped, pointing to the meadow. As the sun’s rays disappeared below the horizon, the grass was coming alive with fireflies.

“Wow. That might be one of the last times we see that this year,” Viera said.

 _Or ever_ , Adalind thought _. No. I can’t let that happen._

They watched the scene for a while more as the evening faded into darkness.

“I didn’t mean to stay out this long,” Viera said. “We’ll be missing supper.”

“We can sneak something from the palace kitchens,” Adalind said.

“We should still get back, though.”

Adalind frowned. “I suppose you’re right.”

Viera remounted her horse and helped Adalind up. As they rode back to the city, one thought in particular was on Adalind’s mind.

_No. No matter what, I can’t let that happen._

“Father?” Adalind asked as she knocked on the door of the king’s private study.

“Adalind? Come in.”

Adalind pushed open the door and found her father sitting at his desk, stooped over a pile of paperwork. He turned in her direction and looked past his reading glasses.

“Adalind, my dear, you missed supper.”

Adalind blushed. “Oh, yes. I, ah, had an errand in town and I’m afraid I lost track of time.”

The king fixed her with a long, penetrating gaze. After a moment, he spoke up. “I was worried about you. You need to check your watch more regularly.”

“Sorry, Father.”

“What can I do for you, my dear?”

“I… wanted to ask,” Adalind began.

“Yes?”

“About the wedding, once I leave Vernia, will Dame Viera be coming with me to continue her duty?”

“Oh, no, she’ll be staying here in Vernia, of course. She is a knight of the crown, after all. She will have new duties.”

“I see,” Adalind said sadly. “And I don’t suppose I could convince you otherwise?”

“Most certainly not,” the king said. “Don’t worry, dear. Your husband will be of better protection to you than even one of my knights. Dame Viera will be better off staying here, perhaps protecting your brother.”

“I see,” Adalind said again, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. “Thank you, Father. That will be all.”

Adalind walked slowly and smoothly to her bedchambers, eyes watering. Pushing the door closed behind her, she slumped against it and let out a quavering sob. She lay there crying for a long time.

Finally, she got up. Weakly, she pulled herself over to her bedside and opened the drawer, opening the hidden compartment and withdrawing the potion. She stared at it for a moment. It still glowed the same otherworldly pink.

“What have I got to lose at this point?” she muttered sourly to herself. She yanked at the cork. It took a minute or so of trying, but it came off.

_Am I really going to do this?_

No. No more back and forth. She wasn’t going to back down. She took a drink of the potion. It tasted sweet. Like a confection, but almost… fruitier? She downed the rest of the potion in a few gulps, and then tapped the bottom of the flask to make sure that she got as much of what remained at the bottom as she could.

Nothing happened for a few moments, and then her whole body started to tingle. She felt herself go limp and had to lean against her bed to stop herself from collapsing entirely. She gasped. Her skin was glowing, the same pink of the potion.

After a minute or so, it faded. She stood up and went to the mirror. She turned her head, examining herself carefully. She looked horrible—her nose was stuffy, her eyes were red, and her nightgown was still wet with tears—but nothing had really changed.

She took a deep breath. It was just a matter of time. She wasn’t sure what came next, but she’d be more ready to confront it after a good night’s sleep.


	2. Shifting Fates

Adalind sat at her desk, tinkering with the watch. It had been so long since she had gotten her hands on a genuine magical relic. She had to figure out what made it tick. Metaphysically speaking.

She had to be careful, though. There were so many tiny parts. One wrong move and she would ruin everything. She carefully removed the back and looked at all the gears. So many tiny gears. She went for the largest one. It looked like it was the easiest to get at. Could she just pry it out? She carefully reached down and tugged. Something clicked.

All at once, the gears were in motion. She withdrew her fingers in alarm, not wanting to have them drawn between the teeth. The gears clicked and whirred and spun. She stared for a moment, and then, carefully, reached down again and tugged. Again, something clicked.

The gears were moving faster now. Perhaps she needed to pry the interior casing off. She got under it with a needle. It strained, then something snapped and fell onto the floor. Multiple somethings. Now there were pieces all over the floor. She stooped over to pick them up, but they kept falling through her fingers. There were too many. She would pick up a few and more would fall to the floor. She couldn’t even find some of them. The ticking was getting faster.

She picked up one of the largest pieces and jammed it into place. It wouldn’t fit. She pushed harder. It seemed to stay. She tried to insert another, but it was moving too fast. Tick, tick tick. She shoved it in. Something snapped.

She dropped the watch on the floor, and it burst into pink flame.

“Your Highness, we must leave immediately!”

Adalind stirred from her sleep. Of course. It was just a dream. She should have known; it was the compass, not the watch, that the old fae woman had enchanted. Feeling calmed by the beautiful play of pink light on the walls of her bedroom, she turned to go back to sleep.

“Please, Highness!”

Zella’s voice stirred her again, and she sat up. Through the window, she saw that the palace was aflame with pink fire. The magical flames tore not only through the shingles of the roofing, but also the masonry itself. Stone twisted and warped under the otherworldly blaze.

“What’s going on?” Adalind asked. Could it be that this was her fault? Could she have brought this upon them all with her meddling in the forbidden arts?

“I don’t know, Your Highness!” Zella said. “No one seems to know what happened. We have to get out of here, though. The castle is going to come down!”

Feeling guilty, Adalind hopped out of bed, stuffing her feet into her slippers. She took Zella’s hand and they raced through the halls, past towering jets of flame.

“Where’s Serra?” Adalind said, struggling to keep pace with Zella.

“I don’t know, Your Highness! Where is anyone? We’re all alone!”

Adalind looked across the expanse of the ballroom. Moonlight danced with pillars of flame in the empty hall. Statues crumbled and rugs shriveled. She turned back to the hallway, and realized she could see people at the end. She squinted. Viera was there! She pulled Zella after her.

She felt a sharp pain in her other hand, and turned to look. There was an enormous snake bite on her hand. As she stared, her hand caught flame.

She screamed. She blew at the flame, but it only grew and expanded. Soon, it covered her whole arm. She had to get to Viera. Viera could quench the flame. Viera could make it right. Adalind looked at Zella. Zella was backing away. Her face… Adalind knew that face. She hadn’t seen that look of disgust on another human since…

Since Katia.

Adalind crumbled on the ground as the flames crawled across her body. She couldn’t move. She closed her eyes. It was still so bright. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. It was so bright, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t move a muscle. She felt so tired. Like she was drifting off to sleep. She couldn’t let that happen. She tried to move with all of her effort and concentration. Did her eyelids twitch? She couldn’t open them. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She had to open her eyes. She had to wake up. There was a smothering weight on her chest, like a faerie come to take her breath away. She felt herself sinking.

She opened her eyes. She was in bed. Only, the weight hadn’t gone away. Someone was sitting atop the bed. On top of her. She blinked.

“Viera?”

“I was wondering when you’d finally get the guts to show me how you really felt. Are you ready now, Addie? Are you finally awake to what’s between us?”

Adalind felt herself blushing intensely. She was suddenly quite aware that that weight on her chest was very soft, very warm, and very feminine. She tried to get up, but she still couldn’t. Viera had her pinned. Viera leaned down and gently pressed her lips against Adalind’s. Adalind closed her eyes and leaned into it, savoring it, sharing in the deep passion of the moment.

Her tongue felt strange.

She opened her eyes, and saw not the face of her love, but that of Phaedra. The Dark Sorceress smiled. Adalind opened her mouth. Her tongue lolled out, long and forked.

There was always a kind of crispness to reality, a feeling of depth that no mindscape could replicate. As her eyes opened to the sun’s rays playing across the ceiling of her bedroom, Adalind relished that feeling. Taking a deep breath, she sat up. Despite herself, she stuck her tongue out. It was normal, of course. She got out of bed and walked over to the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. She supposed it was going to be just another day. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Hours later found Adalind sitting in the castle library, listening to Lady Scola lecture to her about the infrastructure of the Uropian Empire. Having missed her regular history lesson the previous day, Adalind had asked Scola to reschedule. Adalind found herself not minding the distraction. Her previous lesson of the day had been Ibyrnian politics, and as much as she knew it was important, it was an uncomfortable reminder of her impending marriage.

“After the war was over, Emperor Crescens initiated a major reconstruction project that not only restored the aqueduct systems that were damaged in the conflict, but also significantly expanded their scope. Many of the surviving networks we still use today date to this era.”

“Including the ones that supply water to the city?” Adalind asked.

“Most of them, yes. Unfortunately, over the next century, sporadic attacks by the Walhians did somewhat slow the growth of—” Scola was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the library doors.

“Yes? Who is it?” Scola asked.

“Um, it’s Lady Serra. I come bearing a message for Her Highness from His Majesty, the king.”

“Come in, then,” Scola said.

Serra opened the doors and slipped in. Seeing Adalind, she curtsied. “Your Highness, His Majesty requests your immediate presence in the throne room. Evidently he has news of some import.”

Adalind glanced at Scola.

“Go on,” Scola said. “Best not to keep His Majesty waiting. Besides, I was nearly done for the day. We’ll pick up next time.”

Adalind nodded and got up. “Thank you, Serra. Can you take my things back to my room?” she asked, putting her notes in her bag and handing the bag to her Lady-in-Waiting.

“Of course, Your Highness. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you, Serra. You’re dismissed.”

Serra curtsied again and stepped out the way she came. Adalind followed closely after her, heading in the direction of the throne room.

As she walked, her thoughts churned. What was this about? Was it the wedding? Was it being moved up? Did something happen? Did the potion work?

By the time she entered the throne room, she was feeling incredibly nervous.

“Ah, Adalind, my dear. Come in,” King Firmin said, “And close the door behind you. We don’t want this getting out until we can announce it on our own terms.”

Adalind’s heart was hammering now as she approached the throne. That sounded bad. “Don’t want what getting out, Father?”

The king leaned forward in his throne. “About half an hour ago, we received a messenger bird from Ibyrnia. Your wedding to Prince Sverre has been delayed, possibly indefinitely.”

Adalind’s eyes went wide in surprise. She wasn’t quite sure was believing what she heard. “What? Why?”

Firmin stroked his chin contemplatively. “Your mother didn’t want you to know; she thought it would scare you. But you’re an adult now. I think you deserve to know the truth. Besides, it will soon come out, anyway.Better you hear it from me.”

“What truth?”

“Adalind, last night, Prince Sverre was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Adalind asked. “By whom?” She had a creeping suspicion that she knew the answer.

The king sighed. “It seems that Sverre was bewitched by the Dark Sorceress.”

Adalind felt a chill go down her spine. _What have I done?_ It couldn’t be a coincidence. At the same time that she drank that potion, Phaedra had kidnapped and ensorcelled her fiancé. Sverre wasn’t involved with the enchantress until Adalind had made it so. The potion probably wasn’t even what Phaedra said it was. The fae had a reputation for truthtelling, but Phaedra was no fae. Most likely, the potion had served as some kind of signal. There’s no telling what other effects it might have entirely. Adalind thought about her dream of the previous night and shivered.

“I realize this must be frightening for you,” the king said. “The good news is, we at least know that the sorceress is currently northeast of the border. I will see to it that my knights are on high alert. You have nothing to fear.”

“Of course, Father,” Adalind said quietly. She couldn’t believe she’d solicited help from the Dark Sorceress. She was practically as bad as her.

“And don’t worry for Sverre, either. As I said, the knights of Ibyrnia are very, very good. If anyone can get him back safely, they can.”

_No one can,_ Adalind thought. No one had ever escaped the clutches of the Dark Sorceress and lived to tell about it. She was almost certainly already doomed, herself.

Aloud, she said, “Thank you, Father. Was there anything else?”

Firmin leaned back. “No, that is the lot of it. Please, don’t overly concern yourself with this. I’m sure things will be back on track for you soon enough.”

“Of course, Father.” She curtsied and stepped out.

_I’m an awful person._

She needed to talk to Viera, she decided. Unfortunately, Viera was, it seems, currently at sparring practice. Having nothing else to do, Adalind headed for her quarters to examine the compass. Approaching the antechamber to her room, she glanced around to make sure no one was lurking about. Satisfied, she went inside and opened the drawer of her nightstand, withdrawing the false bottom and the compass contained beneath it. The empty flask remained in the drawer; Adalind wasn’t sure how to dispose of it, or if she even should.

As she held the compass, the needle swung around and settled in a southwesterly direction. Hmm. What was it doing now? She presumed it was still enchanted, but it certainly wasn’t pointing toward Ibyrnia. Maybe it was just broken. Disappointed, she set it back in the drawer. She didn’t think she was going to get much insight from it if that was the case. She wasn’t sure she could focus on magical theory, anyway, given the circumstances. Given her guilt. Should she confess the truth? But no, what use would it be? There was no saving Sverre at this point. She didn’t want to endanger Viera. If it came out that Viera had known about her studies… No, this was a secret better kept.

Still, maybe she could discern something from the flask itself. She remembered a ritual that was supposed to be able to identify potions. She’d never cast it before—she’d never had access to a potion to cast it on—but she seemed to recall that it was simple enough. She pulled out her spellbook and got to reading. Yes, it was fairly simple, and supposedly, fairly accurate. She also had the ingredients: magic dust and dried goblinweed. With newfound confidence, she set to work on the ritual.

Zella knocked on Serra’s door. She wasn’t sure she’d be around at this time of day, but it was worth checking. She really needed that necklace she’d lent her back, and knowing how forgetful Serra could be, better to get it as soon as possible. She did _not_ want the girl to misplace something of hers again. Certainly not the necklace. That was a family heirloom.

“Who is it?” Serra’s voice came through the door.

“It’s Zella. Do you still have my necklace?”

“Oh, right, yeah! Come on in.”

Zella walked in to find Serra sitting in front of her mirror, brushing her brown hair.

“Your lucky necklace thing is on my shelf over there,” Serra said, pointing, “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Zella rolled her eyes and went to recover her beaded necklace from the shelf. It wasn’t hard to find. And from the looks of things, it wasn’t the only borrowed thing there. “Are those Her Highness’ study notes?”

“Oh, no, they are!” Serra exclaimed, setting down her brush. “Oh, wow, I hope she isn’t upset with me. She sent me to return them to her room and then I remembered I had something important to do and totally forgot about them.”

Zella raised her brow in irritation. “Excuse me? More important than your duty to Her Highness?” Zella had always taken her duty very seriously. She had great respect for the princess, and maybe even looked up to her a bit. She’d always thought Adalind was so wonderful and smart and pretty. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a hero-worship thing going on. But still, she had never known Serra to shirk her duties, either.

“I forgot my daily prayers, okay? Even Her Highness isn’t as important as our duty to _the gods_.”

“Since when are you at all religious? I have never know you to—Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her face as she felt a burst of realization, “This is about that boy, isn’t it?” Serra had fallen for a young priest. Zella supposed he was cute, but she couldn’t imagine getting involved so intimately with the Temple.

Serra blushed. “I promised him. I’m not going to lie to a priest. Especially a hot one.”

Zella sighed. “Why don’t I just take these notes back to Her Highness? We don’t want you forgetting again.”

“If you would, that would be great,” Serra said, “Thanks!”

Shaking her head, Zella grabbed the notes and departed for the princess’ quarters. Honestly, Serra had such an awful memory.

Approaching the antechamber to the princess’ quarters, Zella considered knocking, but decided against it. The antechamber was almost more her and Serra’s space than Adalind’s, and besides, the princess was probably out right now, anyway. Zella quietly opened the door and walked over to the room’s desk, setting Adalind’s notes down there. As she turned to leave, though, she thought she heard whispering from the room. Was it possible that Adalind was here, after all? Perhaps she ought to leave. She glanced at the door to Adalind’s bedchambers, and her eyes went wide as she saw a burst of greenish light flash from beneath the door. What could that be?

Knowing it was probably none of her business and acting on that knowledge appropriately, Zella decided, were two different things. Besides, it could be trouble. There were rumors going around of witchcraft lately. As silently as she could, she crept over to the door and peeped through the keyhole. Adalind had some kind of glass bottle or flask on her desk, and it was glowing with swirling green light. Zella gasped, but thankfully, Adalind seemed too distracted by whatever she was doing to have noticed. The princess whispered an indistinct incantation, and the light flashed brightly before vanishing.

Zella stood up straight and crept out of the room as quietly as possible. Exiting the antechamber, she wove through several hallways before resting against a wall some distance away to gather her thoughts.

_What was that?_ Was the princess a secret sorceress? Could that be why she’d always been so distant? She knew that the Temple taught that magic was a gift of the fae, dangerous, and not to be meddled with by those uninitiated in the mysteries, lest they be corrupted by its power. On the other hand, if Adalind was doing it, it couldn’t be _so_ bad, could it? Or _was_ she one of those wicked sorceresses? But how could someone like her be evil?

Zella felt hopelessly confused. Well, one thing was for sure: this wasn’t a piece of gossip she could share casually. Especially not with Serra. She’d tell her priest, and he’d bring the whole Temple down on them. Zella didn’t want to do that. Certainly not when she knew so little about what was happening. She’d just have to dig a little deeper.

Adalind muttered the last of the incantations and the glow from the bottle faded. She felt a lot better about this whole situation now, even if that hadn’t cleared up as much as she would have liked. The potion definitely wasn’t any kind of signal spell, at the very least. The timing of Sverre’s abduction must have been a coincidence. It was still probably her fault, but at least she didn’t feel as directly responsible.

As for what it was, it definitely did have the hallmarks of the kind of fate magic that the sorceress had claimed it was, but there was something else there, too. She couldn’t identify it, but whatever it was was linked to her. That was probably bad. Her thoughts kept going back to her dream of the previous night. Was Phaedra changing her, somehow? That did seem to be the price of dealing with her. All the more reason to talk to Viera. It was time to come clean. On more than one thing.

Adalind closed her spellbook and put her things away. That’s just what she would have to do. Viera would be done with sparring soon. Perhaps an evening together in the palace gardens would be nice.

Adalind left her room and headed for the palace’s north courtyard. There was a balcony there from which she could watch for knights returning from training. She had gone there before to catch Viera on her way back. It was as good a place as any to wait.

To her surprise, as she approached, she saw that someone else was already waiting there. She thought she recognized her as one of the ladies who attended court regularly. Adalind walked up beside her. “I hope you don’t mind if I slip in,” she said, causing the other woman to jump, “Lady Phile, is it?”

“Oh, Your Highness, you startled me,” Phile said, doing an abrupt curtsey. “Are you here to see Lord Vintus, as well?”

“I can’t say I am,” Adalind said. The name rung a bell. Maybe one of Viera’s fellow knights?

“That’s for the best, I fear,” Phile said. Leaning over conspiratorially, she whispered, “I hear he’s seeing someone already.”

“Is that so?” Adalind murmured indifferently. She leaned over on the railing, scanning the green as if it would make Viera appear sooner.

“Oh, yes, one of the other knights, or so they say. Vira or something.”

“Hmm,” Adalind said, still gazing across the green.

“ _I_ certainly can’t compete with that.” Phile sighed.

Phile’s words finally found their hold in Adalind’s brain, and she snapped up. “Wait, who? Not Dame Viera?”

“That’s the one!” Phile exclaimed. “Ah, and he’s so gorgeous, too. I suppose a knight like him is too chivalrous to take a mistress.”

Phile went on in this bent for some time, gushing on about Vintus’ looks and charm. All the while, Adalind’s mind raced and heart sank. Viera was seeing someone? Not only another knight, but a lord, to boot? Adalind thought back to the evening they had spent together outside the city walls, how Viera had panicked when Adalind mentioned not wanting to marry Sverre. _She knows, doesn’t she? She knows, and she doesn’t feel the same way. How could I have thought…?_

As Phile chattered on, not seeming to need much in the way of input from Adalind, Adalind just felt cold.

“...thought perhaps that I could catch his eye by wearing ribbons in my hair. What a foolish idea! I don’t know what she was—”

“Phile?” Adalind said, interrupting the other woman, “I don’t think I’m feeling very well suddenly. I think I might go inside.”

Phile raised her eyebrows, looking almost hurt. “Oh? Of course, Your Highness. Don’t let me stop you.”

Adalind put up her hands in reassurance. “It was good seeing you, Lady Phile, really, I just think I could use to get out of this cold.”

“Oh, is it cold?” Phile asked, “I thought it was rather warm today. You aren’t coming down with something, are you, Highness?”

Adalind ran a finger through her curls. “All the more reason to get inside, I suppose.” Phile nodded, and Adalind turned and headed back the way she had come. Before getting far, she heard a quiet “Ooh!” from Phile, and she turned to see what it was the other woman was reacting to.

Two knights were making their way across the green. One was a confident-looking blond man with a mustache that Adalind only vaguely recognized. By the way Phile was ogling him, Adalind guessed he was Vintus. She supposed he was cute enough, if you were into that sort of thing; Adalind certainly wasn’t. The other was Viera. She looked happy. Adalind watched as she laughed at something Vintus said.

Adalind turned around. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. She would ask Viera herself.

Viera sighed in relief as soon as she was confident she was out of hearing range from Vintus. Honestly, what a complete windbag. She wished she could slap him, but she was fairly certain she’d be in major trouble if she attacked nobility. She might be a knight of the crown, but she still wasn’t of high birth, and these things mattered at court. She had resigned herself to tuning him out and thinking happy thoughts. Like Adalind. Adalind was a happy thought.

Usually, anyway. Now that she was alone, concern came creeping back into her mind. The princess couldn’t have been serious the other day about wanting to back out of her marriage to Sverre, could she? Viera was a horrid influence on her. There must be something Viera could do to fix this. Every option that came to mind sounded miserable, though. Not for the first time, she wished she had someone besides Adalind to confide in. She missed Burke. She could have told him anything. She wished she could write to him, but for the safety of both him and his lover, they’d all agreed it was best if Viera had no idea where they had run off to. Indeed, like all of his former friends, Viera had been interrogated when he abandoned his post. It was rather a relief on Viera’s part to have little to hide.

Unfortunately, that left Viera without anyone she could really be open around. Adalind came closest. She desperately wanted to open up to her, but…

No. Adalind was a princess. She wouldn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. Perhaps if she told her the truth, that would at least succeed in driving her away. But she couldn’t bear the thought of tainting their goodbyes that way. Besides, it could be dangerous. What if Adalind went to her father? No, she couldn’t know.

Viera headed for the baths. She needed to wash this stench of sweat off her skin. Then perhaps she could let herself dwell on the problem of fixing the situation with Adalind.

Fifteen minutes later, having washed and dried thoroughly, Viera left the baths to find Adalind waiting for her in the corridor outside.

“Your Highness,” Viera said, bowing.

“Oh, please, you know you don’t have to do that,” Adalind said. “How are you, Viera?”

“Well enough, I suppose. And you?”

“It’s been a terribly busy day, I’m afraid. I have so much I want to discuss with you.”

Viera sighed. “Yeah, same here,” she said. She supposed it was time to put her foot down and put some distance between them.

“Oh?” Adalind asked, “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s about you, actually,” Viera said. She was dreading this.

“Me?” Adalind looked confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I…” Gods dammit, why did she have to look so cute? It was just making this more difficult. “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

Adalind’s face went blank, as if she was having trouble processing this. “What?”

“I want to put some distance between us,” Viera said.

Emotion slowly returned to Adalind’s face as a look of terror crept in. “What?! Why? You can’t be serious!”

“Addie—” she began. _No._ “Your Highness. We—we both have a duty to Vernia. That duty will take us down separate paths. Those paths diverge here. Please, you can’t—don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please.”

For a time, Adalind just stared at her with a look wavering between upset and angry. Finally, she spoke. “It’s Vintus, isn’t it?”

Viera blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Adalind said, “I’ve heard the talk around court. If you don’t have time for me anymore on account of your lover, just say so.”

_My… lover?_ Comprehension dawned on her. Vintus was spreading rumors again, the weasel. Gods, even if she were so inclined, she could do so much better than _Vintus_.

Still.

This could be exactly the opportunity she had been looking for.

She took a deep breath. “Oh, so you know about that.”

Something broke in Adalind’s face at that, and she turned around and ran. Viera wanted desperately to stop her, to tell her the truth. She remained silent. She closed her eyes. _No matter what I do, I hurt her._

Zella knew she shouldn’t be here, but she had to know the truth, and well, if that meant snooping around in the princess’ quarters, then so be it. She looked around outside the door, making sure no one was around. Though, honestly, it wasn’t as if she wasn’t expected to be here.

She quietly slipped through the door, thankful that it didn’t make much sound. She went back to the small desk inside the antechamber, and picked up the notes from the other day. She flipped through them. There wasn’t much to see. It looked like it was just language, history, etiquette, politics, all the things she would expect to find in Her Highness’ notes.

Quietly, she set them down and entered the princess’ bedroom. She knew it would be time for supper soon. Hopefully, that meant she would have the room to herself for a while. She walked over to the wardrobe and looked inside. Just Adalind’s usual clothes that were always there when Zella and Serra dressed her, of course. Zella wasn’t fully sure what she was expecting to find here.

She wandered over to the princess’ nightstand and opened it up. The drawer had less space on the inside than she would have expected from the size. There wasn’t much to see, either. She supposed that if Her Highness did have magical relics, they would probably be better hidden than this.

Just then, she heard a sound from the antechamber. _Oh, no._ She looked around the room. Could she hide behind the wardrobe? No, there was no way. _In_ the wardrobe? No, no time. Hmm…

Adalind once again closed the door behind her and slumped against it. Unlike last time, there were no tears. She just felt empty inside. She wasn’t sure how long she just sat there, staring up at the ceiling. _To think I risked my soul_ _for_ _that woman_. Though she supposed she couldn’t blame Viera too much. It’s not as if they were anything more than friends. But still, it hurt that Viera hadn’t even mentioned it to her, and moreover, now she knew for a fact that they could never be together.

She was tired. Getting up, she walked over to the call cord for summoning servants. She pulled it. She didn’t think she was up to going down to supper. She went over and sat on the bed to wait.

A minute or so later, a knock came at her door. She sat up and walked over, opening the door to the servant waiting on the other side.

“You called, Your Highness?” the man asked, bowing.

“Yes, could you fetch Lady Zella for me? I’m afraid I’m not feeling terribly well.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he said, “Was there anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Of course,” he repeated, bowing again and rushing off.

Maybe twenty minutes later, another knock came from her door. Adalind set down the weaving she had been working on. “Come in.”

To her surprise, it was neither Zella nor the young servant who entered.

“Lady Serra?” Adalind asked.

“Is there something the matter, Your Highness?”

“Um, yes, actually. I’m not feeling terribly well tonight. Could you maybe bring me something up from the kitchens? Once dinner is over, of course. I don’t wish to interrupt your meal.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Serra said. “Was there anything else?”

“No, thank you, Serra.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” She curtsied and left.

Adalind went back and sat on the bed. She sighed. What was she going to do now?

Laying perfectly still beneath the princess’ bed, Zella reflected that having all these sheets hanging down to block the view of the bottom was probably a security risk. What if she had been an assassin? The princess could be dead by now. That just wasn’t sufficient. She resolved to bring it up with Adalind if she ever got out of this.

Zella’s attention turned to the edge of the bed as Adalind got up again. Zella couldn’t tell what was going on, exactly, but the princess seemed to be looking through her nightstand. It sounded like she was taking out far more than Zella remembered seeing in there. Was there a secret compartment?

Adalind went still for a time. After about a minute, she sighed. “Not only did I sell my soul, but Sverre’s, too. All for nothing.”

What? What was she talking about? That sounded serious. She really was an evil enchantress, wasn’t she?

With some shuffling, Adalind returned her things to the nightstand and came back to sit on the bed.

Hmm. If the princess wasn’t feeling well, Zella might be here awhile. She hoped that Serra could manage on her own.

Adalind stepped into her bath chamber, and Zella saw her chance. She maneuvered herself over to the far side of the bed from, and wiggled out as quietly as possible. The bed’s impressive height at least made that easier. She couldn’t imagine slipping in or out successfully beneath her own bed. She wanted to poke around some more, but she’d already pushed her luck too much tonight. She crept briskly over to the door and opened it. Just as she did, though, Adalind stepped back into the room.

“Zella?”

Zella turned, hoping she wasn’t looking too guilty. “Yes, Your Highness? I came to check on you, but I saw that you were out, so I was just leaving.”

“Where have you been? Serra couldn’t find you. She had to help me into my nightclothes by herself.”

It struck Zella that the one thing more dangerous than getting on the bad side of a member of the royal family might be getting on the bad side of a member of the royal family who dabbled in witchcraft. Thankfully, she’d had time to think her story through.

“I’m so sorry, Your Highness. Apparently I fell asleep in the gardens earlier. I just woke up. I don’t know what came over me.”

Adalind frowned. “Are you alright? You’ve got to be careful; you’ll catch your cold out there. It was positively _freezing_ out there today, even with the sun up.”

Whoops. Zella had been sure it had been fairly warm that day. “I don’t know; I do feel a little run down. But I wanted to make sure there was nothing you needed.”

Adalind smiled. “I do appreciate it, Zella. Actually, I’m not feeling entirely well, myself. It’s so drafty in here. I was contemplating a bath; do you think you could heat up some water?”

“Of course, Your Highness!” That had gone much better than Zella was expecting. She went into the bath chamber and began to draw up some water for a bath. Running water was one of the many luxuries enjoyed by the citizens of the capital, and the palace’s plumbing system was quite extensive. Zella could scarcely imagine having to bring in water from outside and heat it manually. She ran the water until it went warm, and then began filling the tub.

A loud thump came from the other room. Zella jumped in alarm and rushed into the bedroom to find the princess holding herself awkwardly against the bed, looking frazzled.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

Adalind pushed herself uneasily into a standing position. “Yes. Yes! I just, ah, I’m feeling rather dizzy suddenly. On second thought, perhaps I’d better lie down. Do you think you could get me a hot water bottle?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Do you need help?”

“Ah, that would be lovely, yes,” Adalind mumbled.

Zella went to help her into bed and nearly cringed at the feel of the princess’ skin. “Ah! You feel so icy cold.”

“You’re telling me,” Adalind muttered, sliding under her covers. “It’s freezing in here. Why is it so cold?”

“Should I get a doctor?” Zella asked.

“No, I just need sleep. Get me a hot water bottle, please. And maybe some extra blankets.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, Zella.”

Zella wasn’t sure what to think about the things she’d heard tonight, but it was a matter for another time. For now, she had a duty to perform. Even if Adalind was a witch, she was still the princess, first and foremost.


	3. Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adalind is sick, and Zella shows off her impressive detective skills.

Adalind shivered under the covers. How long had she been bedridden, now? Weeks? Months? She had lost track. Vernia had entered the deep chill of winter, and even here in the palace, Adalind was freezing. She could see her breath. How could it be so cold?

The bite on her hand only seemed to be getting worse. It wasn’t healing, but the skin was turning a sickly green. It terrified her, but she couldn’t see a doctor. Why couldn’t she see a doctor? She knew there was a good reason, but she struggled to remember it. She just knew, deep down, that if she saw a doctor, something terrible would happen.

At this point, though, she wasn’t sure if she could get help even if she wanted to. Even if it wasn’t for the cold, she was far too weak to get up, and there was no one around to talk to. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about her. Viera had abandoned her, her family had better things to do, Serra had gotten distracted again, and even Zella hardly visited anymore. It was so lonely.

The door to her bedroom creaked open, and she turned her head to see who it was. From this angle, she couldn’t tell, but it looked like a tall figure in a cloak. She craned her neck trying to get a better view, but her pillows were in the way.

“Who’s there?” she asked. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll call the guards here.”

“I don’t think you want to do that, do you, Princess?” Phaedra asked, lowering her hood.

Adalind gasped. “N—no,” she said. What was she saying? She should be terrified of this interloper, shouldn’t she?

Why didn’t she want to call out?

Phaedra leaned down and took Adalind’s hand, examining her snake bite. “Mmm, You’re coming along nicely.” She gently kissed it, then released her hand and leaned in close to the princess to whisper in her ear. “I think you’ll be ready soon, don’t you, my pet?”

Adalind gave a moan that felt almost just as sensual as it was fearful. This woman’s presence was intoxicating.

Phaedra turned Adalind’s face to hers, and softly parted the princess’ lips with her own. Her tongue darted forth, probing hungrily. Despite herself, Adalind leaned in close and embraced the enchantress. She was filled with an intense burning need for Phaedra.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the Dark Sorceress broke off the kiss, drawing back and smiling wickedly. She turned to leave.

Adalind gave a small whine of protest. “No, don’t go.”

Phaedra turned back to her and put a finger under the princess’ chin, fixing her with a mischievous stare. “Your Highness. I hope you don’t think I’m finished with you yet. I will be back to collect you soon enough, my pet. But first…” Phaedra gave a flick to Adalind’s chin, and all at once, Adalind jolted awake to find Zella standing over her, looking concerned.

Zella stayed with Adalind for a time, even after Her Highness had fallen asleep. Zella wondered if perhaps she ought to just go fetch a cot and sleep in the next room. The princess seemed very unwell, and Zella had to admit she was second-guessing Her Highness’ orders not to fetch a doctor. She could tell that the princess was sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning and occasionally shivering fiercely.

Zella’s mind went back to the princess’ earlier words. What did they mean? Perhaps she ought to take the time to do some further digging. Adalind was asleep now; if she was quiet and vigilant, she might be able to look around without waking her.

Well, one place she couldn’t check was under the mattress. But what else was there? There was nothing in the bathchamber, and she’d already examined the wardrobe. It was honestly likely that the princess didn’t keep her magical accouterments in her room at all. Why tie them to herself unnecessarily?

Still, the nightstand was bugging her. She pulled out the drawer and looked underneath. No gap down there. Hmm. That couldn’t be solid, could it? She went to knock on the base and stopped herself, not wanting to stir the princess from her slumber. _Hmm._ She felt underneath it. It seemed solid enough. She did the same inside and found that the bottom of the drawer seemed loose. She drew in a sharp intake of breath. Could this be it?

She glanced back in Adalind’s direction, but she looked to be sleeping soundly. If anything, she looked better than she had before. Zella turned her attention back to the nightstand and carefully pried the base of the drawer out to reveal a compartment beneath. She saw a compass, some jewelry, old yellowed scrolls, and what could only be spellbooks. Curiously, the cabinet also contained an empty glass flask with a cork loosely stuck in the top. She set down the drawer panel and picked up the flask, removing the cork. Carefully, she sniffed the bottle. It didn’t seem to have much of an odor, so she took a deeper sniff. No, there was definitely something. She couldn’t recognize it, but it smelled sweet. She recorked the bottle and examined the label. The symbol looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maybe she could do a little digging and try to figure it out. It might be an ancient Vosrian character.

Well, she certainly didn’t have time for that now. She replaced the flask and the false bottom, closing the drawer as quietly as she could. Now, the princess needed her care and attention. She went back to the bedside. Adalind was still asleep. Zella put her hand gently to Her Highness’ forehead. It was still absolutely frigid. Yes, perhaps she ought to get a doctor. She turned to leave, only to stop as the princess made a sad little whine.

“No, don’t go,” Adalind murmured.

Zella turned back to the princess. “Your Highness?” Adalind didn’t say anything more. Was she talking in her sleep? Zella approached her cautiously, not wanting to disturb her.

Adalind’s eyes slowly opened. “What? You’re not…” she mumbled.

“Not what? Are you alright, Your Highness?”

“Oh, Zella, it’s just you. I was having the strangest dream. I…” Suddenly, Adalind’s eyes shot open, and the princess looked alert. “Um, nothing. Nevermind. I can’t really remember the details now, anyway.”

“You seem very unwell, Highness,” Zella said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call for a doctor?”

“No,” Adalind said seriously, “No doctors. I just need sleep.”

“Of—of course, Your Highness,” Zella said uncertainly. “I’m worried about you, though.”

“It’s just been…” Adalind seemed unsure. “It’s been a strange week. I think I’m feeling rather worn out. Perhaps a bit of a cold, as well. It’s nothing serious.”

“A cold could be very serious, Your Highness.”

“Don’t worry about it, Zella. Please.”

“Well, I don’t think I can do that,” Zella said, “But I will trust your judgment on this. Would you like me to stay nearby in case you need anything? I was considering setting up a cot here or in the antechamber.”

Adalind frowned. “Do you mind? I don’t want you losing sleep on my account.”

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.”

“Okay, thank you, Zella,” Adalind said. She groaned uncomfortably. “Do you think you can get me a fresh hot water bottle while you’re out? Mine is getting cold.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” And it might afford an opportunity to stop by the castle library, as well. Zella knew she needed sleep soon, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some reading material if she was going to be staying here for time being, would it?

A knock on Adalind’s bedroom door brought Zella out of her half-sleep. “Wha? Who is it?” she asked in a mumble.

“It’s Serra. Is Her Highness awake?” Zella had spoken with Serra the previous night. Thankfully, she seemed to have bought Zella’s story about falling asleep in the gardens.

“Mmm, I’m not sure,” Zella said. “I barely am.” She looked over to the bed to see a vaguely Adalind-shaped lump buried in covers. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I thought that perhaps Her Highness would like to take breakfast in her quarters this morning, but I can come back later if need be.”

An indistinct mumble came from Adalind’s direction.

“What was that, Your Highness?” Zella asked.

Adalind flipped her blankets off of her head. “Is it warm?” she asked. Then she shrieked. “Oh, gods, it’s cold in here. Why is it so cold?” She huddled the tops of the blankets as close to her face as possible.

“The food is warm, yes, Your Highness,” Serra said.

“I’ll take anything that can warm me up right about now, thank you,” Adalind said.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Serra wheeled a cart of food into the room. “I brought you something, too, Zella. It’s outside.”

“Oh, thank you,” Zella said.

“You two can eat in here,” Adalind said. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure, Your Highness?” Zella asked. That seemed uncharacteristically familiar of her.

“It’s fine. I’d appreciate the company. I still feel awful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Your Highness,” Serra said, bringing the cart over to the bed as Adalind sat up. “I actually already had something. I would have brought yours first, but I wanted to let you sleep. I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine, Serra,” Adalind said, digging into her food. “Though if that’s the case, could you inform my tutors that I’m going to have to cancel for the day? I don’t think I’m feeling well enough to get up.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Was there anything else?”

“No, thank you, Serra.”

“Alright, then I’ll be going,” Serra said. She had a look of realization then. “Oh wait! I nearly forgot. Dame Viera was looking for you earlier. Are you feeling well enough for a visit?”

Adalind froze in the middle of chewing something. Slowly, she swallowed. “No, I don’t think so. I—I don’t think I feel up to speaking to Viera any time soon.”

Zella raised her eyebrows. What was that about? Everyone knew that the two of them were close friends. If Zella was fully honest with herself, she was a bit jealous of the knight for winning the princess’ attentions when Her Highness had always seemed so aloof to Zella. Not that she would say that, of course. Or hold it against Viera.

Okay, maybe she’d hold it against her a little bit.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Serra departed—from the sounds of it, without bothering to bring in Zella’s food.

This new development was perplexing, to say the least. Were the two of them having a fight? The mystery deepened.

Zella sighed, and got out of bed. No use thinking about it on an empty stomach.

Viera had decided that she had made a terrible mistake.

After she and Adalind had parted ways the previous afternoon, Viera had taken a light supper and spent the evening stewing in her own sorrow. She had been distinctly tempted to go down to the tavern and drink the rest of the night away, her reputation be damned, but she was simply too drained. Seeing the hurt and betrayal on Adalind’s face had taken everything out of her.

When she awoke the next morning, she found to her displeasure that the pain and guilt had been joined by an intense heaping of regret. She had immediately and needlessly cut herself off from her closest friend, the only one she could share her deepest truths with. Most of them, anyway. As she lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, Viera found the day ahead, as well as every day after it, looking exceedingly bleak. She sighed, getting up and resigning herself to going through the motions of a typical day.

It wasn’t a typical day, though. Everything Viera did brought the previous day’s regrettable decision to the forefront of her mind. Nothing was quite right, knowing she wouldn’t be able to talk about it with the princess later. At least, not as anything more than a guard and her charge. At breakfast, Viera ran into Serra and inquired after Adalind’s wellbeing, but Serra didn’t have much to say. For a moment, Viera was tempted to track Adalind down and take back everything she’d said, but the news that the princess was still asleep dampened that idea. It was for the best, right? This was all for Adalind’s own good.

By midday, nothing had improved to speak of, and it was with exhausted resignation that Viera trudged down to the stables after lunch. Viera didn’t do patrols nearly as often as some of the other knights, as she was to stay close to her charge, but she was expected to partake in them occasionally, and today happened to be one of those days. To be honest, she was dreading it. She was sure that going out on horseback would only remind her of Adalind.

Viera stepped into the stables and looked around. None of the others seemed to have arrived yet; all the horses were still in their pens, and the stables were empty of people but for a single stablehand, who was sweeping the floors. Viera strode over to the pen containing her mare, Alaria, who was happily nibbling away at some hay.

Viera glanced over to the stablehand. “Eustace. How is she today?”

Eustace looked over in Viera’s direction. “Well enough, I’d say. You thinking of going for a ride?”

Viera raised her brow. “I have patrol today.”

“I thought His Majesty canceled all regular patrols for the day.”

“What? This is the first I’ve heard of it. Why?”

“’Cause of this morning’s news, I expect. Everything’s a bit out of sorts today.”

“What?” Viera asked. “What news are you talking about?”

“You didn’t hear? I’d have thought he was convening all his knights to go on the offensive. Least to expand the patrols, I’d figure. But then, I s’pose it’ll be business as usual for you, won’t it, ma’am?”

Could this man get more aggravatingly vague? “What are you talking about, Eustace?”

“Some kerfluffle with the Ibyrnians, I think. So much for Her Highness’ wedding to Prince Sverre, eh?”

_Wait._

_Oh, no._

Viera tried to keep her voice calm. “You’re telling me that the wedding is canceled?”

“So the rumor goes. Can’t tell you the full details, myself.”

Viera took a deep breath. “Thank you, Eustace. I think I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be here if you need me, ma’am. Least for the time being.”

Viera turned and left the stables. How could she have been so foolish? She had driven away her closest friend, whom it was her duty to protect, in anticipation of a wedding that wasn’t even happening now. She had to make this right. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Returning to the palace proper, she tried to recall Adalind’s daily schedule. Normally, the princess should be learning natural philosophy from Lord Kalle right now, should she not? Viera headed for the alchemical laboratories of the palace’s northeast tower.

Several unpleasantly long staircases later, Viera knocked on the door of Lord Kalle’s lab. After a brief pause, the door opened just a crack, and a dark-haired mustachioed man glanced out. “Ah, Dame Viera, is it?” He opened the door a little wider. “What can I do for you today? Are you here about the princess?”

“Yes, actually,” Viera said. “I don’t want to disturb her lesson unnecessarily, but if you could just let her know I need to speak with her, that would be wonderful.”

Lord Kalle raised his brow. “Ah, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, then. Her Highness isn’t here.”

“What? Where is she?”

“In her chambers, I assume. Lady Serra came to me a little while ago to let me know that the princess wasn’t feeling well, and that she’d be missing her lesson today. A pity, too. I was looking forward to showing her this fascinating spider I found.”

“What? Surely you must know she hates spiders.”

Lord Kalle frowned. “What? How could anyone hate such magnificent creatures? Anyway, it’s not a _real_ spider. It’s a naturally-occurring pyrite precipitate that just happens to look exactly like one. Would you like to see it?”

“What? No,” Viera said, “You say she’s not feeling well? Did Lady Serra tell you what was wrong?”

Lord Kalle waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I expect she has a cold or somesuch. Are you sure you don’t want to see the spider? I have some leaves and some kind of lizard, too.”

 _Argh._ This was why Viera rarely interacted with the man. “No, I don’t want to see the spider, m’lord. I think I need to be going now, actually. Her Highness’ safety is my sworn duty.”

“Oh,” Kalle said, looking down disappointedly and fiddling with his cufflinks. “Alright, then. Good day, then, ma’am.” He slipped back into the lab and closed the door. Viera relaxed her shoulders and turned to go back down the stairs. About a floor later, she faintly heard the sound of the door opening up above.

“The lizard even has bones! Not real, of course, but they’re remarkably convincing!”

Viera rubbed her forehead and continued on her way.

A short while later found Viera standing before the door to Adalind’s chambers, stock still as she struggled to summon the courage to knock. She felt so ashamed. She had abandoned her duty over her own inability to accept her feelings, and now the princess was ill. She had to be by her side, but how could she explain this? She took a deep breath and knocked.

“Just a moment!” came Zella’s voice from Adalind’s bedroom. Wow, how sick was Her Highness, if Zella was staying with her? Adalind was remarkably private around most, and she had never been close to her Ladies-in-Waiting. Viera wasn’t sure why. If she had to guess, she’d say that the princess was afraid of others discovering her hobby of dabbling in things non-priests weren’t meant to know.

The door opened just a bit, showing not much more than an eye and a flash of strawberry blonde hair. The eye narrowed. “Dame Viera,” Zella said curtly.

“Greetings, m’lady,” Viera said, giving a slight bow. “I was hoping to speak to Her Highness. I understand she’s not feeling well?”

“Indeed. I’m afraid that Her Highness isn’t feeling well enough for visitors at the moment.”

“I’m sure she’d want to see me,” Viera said, uncertainly.

“No, she was quite specific about that, actually.”

 _Damn._ “Could you at least let her know I was here, then?”

“I suppose, once she wakes up.”

Viera sighed. That would have to do. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, if there’s nothing else, I really need to keep close attention on Her Highness.” Zella began to close the door.

“Wait!”

Zella paused.

“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

“Just a cold, I think. Nothing serious.”

“Thank you,” Viera repeated.

Zella wordlessly closed the door.

 _That could have gone better._ Viera supposed that for the time being, Adalind needed a little space. That was okay. Viera could wait.

She just hoped it wasn’t too long.

Zella sighed in relief as she closed Her Highness’ bedroom door behind her. That had been too close. She moved quickly over to the princess’ side and confirmed that she was still sleeping. Well, she seemed to be. Being buried in covers as she was, it was hard to tell.

Zella reached under the bed and withdrew the spellbook that she had gotten out of Adalind’s nightstand. She flipped back through it, trying to find her place. There it was. One of the appendices had symbols used in magical studies. Zella had struggled to find anything relevant in the castle library, but perhaps Adalind’s spellbooks would have something. Unfortunately, this one was written in Middle Vosrian, which was making it difficult to decipher. She was impressed that Her Highness could read it, but then, she supposed that the princess did have access to some of the best tutors in the kingdom.

Zella reached the end of the appendix, and, having found nothing, closed the book in frustration. She took it back to the drawer and opened the compartment. Perhaps one of the scrolls had something useful. Though if it did, it was probably written in Old Vosrian, or even one of the Ancient Uropian languages. Her eyes lingered on the flask, though. Setting the book down, she picked the flask up.

It _was_ a Vosrian character on the label. She recognized it now. It was highly stylized, and used a font she had only ever seen in…

…in wanted posters. This was the symbol of the Dark Sorceress.

Several things clicked in Zella’s mind then. Adalind’s aloofness. Her secretive nature. Her reluctance to take a husband. What she’d said the other day about Sverre. It all made sense to Zella in that moment.

Adalind wasn’t just any evil sorceress. She was _the_ evil sorceress.

She was Phaedra.

Viera was headed for the stables—perhaps she’d take a ride, after all—when the page found her. Unfortunately for them both, he found her face-first and at top speed. They both tumbled to the floor.

Viera sat up. Her hands hands ached from scraping the ground.

The page was already getting up. “I’m so sorry, ma’am! I should have been more careful.”

Viera looked at her hands. They were red, but her fall hadn’t broken the skin. “Just, maybe don’t run in the hallways next time, um… what was your name, again?”

“Jameson, ma’am. Actually, it’s you I was looking for. I checked the stables first, but they said you were visiting the princess. I have a message from the king.” Jameson offered Viera a hand getting up, which she took.

“From the king?” Viera asked, still a little dazed, “What is it?”

“His Majesty requires your presence in the throne room.”

Viera’s blood went cold. Had he found out that she’d upset Adalind? “Did he say what it was about?”

“No, ma’am. I’d expect it would be about this morning’s news, though.”

“Right. Thank you, Jameson. I’ll see His Majesty right away.”

Viera headed for the throne room. Right. There was a diplomatic incident of some kind. The vagueness of the rumor she’d heard suggested something sensitive, really. Plus, why else would the wedding be canceled? She shouldn’t panic yet. Not until she knew what was going on.

Viera reached the throne room and entered, still feeling nervous, but trying not to show it in her manner.

As she entered, the king spoke. “Guards. Leave us.” Nodding, the guards disappeared into side passages. Viera heard the door shut behind her. She approached the throne and knelt before King Firmin.

“Dame Viera. You may rise.”

Viera stood.

“You are aware, I assume, of the postponement of my daughter’s wedding and the reasoning behind it?”

“Not precisely, My Liege.” Postponed? So it wasn’t canceled after all?

Firmin sighed. “Two days ago, Prince Sverre of Ibyrnia was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” Viera asked. “By whom?”

“Understand that what I am about to tell you is not to leave this room. My daughter knows the truth, but you mustn’t share it with anyone besides her. We don’t want to create a panic.”

That sounded alarming. “Yes, My Liege.”

“Prince Sverre has, I’m afraid, become a victim of the Dark Sorceress, Phaedra.”

 _What?_ Viera had heard the stories. A terrible witch and seductress, tempting away innocent maidens… and young men, apparently. She had never been defeated in battle, and her victims never escaped her grasp. Sverre was doomed.

Viera took a sharp breath. “Is her current location known?”

“She is presumed to be in Ibyrnia still, but with her sorcery, who knows? I have sent troops and knights to the border to try to keep her out of Vernia, but we cannot be sure they will succeed. It is highly unlikely that Phaedra will settle for Prince Sverre alone. That brings me to your part in this.”

“My Liege?”

“Your duty has not changed. You are to protect my daughter with your life. You must be vigilant. You cannot let that foul witch take our princess away from us. You must do all in your power to guard her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Liege.” Should she tell him? She was terrified of risking his wrath. But no, Adalind’s safety was more important. “If I may, I fear that I may have alienated Her Highness recently. It was a foolish matter; I had hoped to keep her from missing my company when she left Vernia for good. But I fear I may have damaged our relationship irreparably.”

Firmin leaned back and sighed, rubbing his forehead with his knuckle. “You have a good heart, Dame Viera, but you can be too impulsive. Regardless. Reconnect with her if you can, but if not, you must still do everything in your power to protect her. She doesn’t have to like it; just see to it that she is in no danger.”

Viera looked the king in the eye. “I swear to you that she will not be lost to that witch as long as I stand.”

Firmin smiled. “From you, I can believe it. Very good. You are dismissed.”

Zella’s mind raced as she lay on her cot, staring up at Her Highness’ bedroom ceiling. She felt as if her entire worldview had been turned on its head. Princess Adalind? The Dark Sorceress? Zella had never thought evil sorcery the kind of behavior that ought to be emulated, but now she found herself questioning that assumption. She had looked up to the princess as long as she had known her. She couldn’t possibly imagine that anything Her Highness saw fit to put her mind to wouldn’t be worthwhile.

She wished she had someone to talk about this with. Perhaps she could discuss it with Serra if she kept it vague and hypothetical. Serra usually had good sense. Zella just didn’t want Adalind to be discovered by her actions. Not until she was sure how to feel about this new revelation. Zella supposed she could also talk to Adalind herself about it. She didn’t want to make her angry, though. That would be terrible. Anyway, Her Highness was sick right now. She was in no condition to have that kind of discussion.

A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her musings. She got up and walked over to see who it was. She peered through the keyhole and recognized Viera.

“Hmph,” Zella said, and turned to go back to her cot. Another sharp knock rang out behind her. Annoyed, she opened the door slightly. “I thought I told you that the princess didn’t want to see you.”

Viera had a look on her face that might be best described as _stubborn_. “I know,” she said, “That’s why I’m giving you the courtesy of bothering to tell you I’m here.”

“What?” Zella asked.

“Look, Lady Zella, it’s my job to protect the princess, and right now? I have reason to believe she needs protecting. You’ve heard about this business with her fiancé, haven’t you?”

Zella frowned. Serra had mentioned that Sverre had been kidnapped, but what did that have to do with Adalind?

Well, actually, it had everything to do with Adalind, didn’t it? She was the one who kidnapped him, after all. But she couldn’t tell Viera that.

“What has that got to do with anything?” she asked instead.

Viera sighed. “Look, the details are confidential, but my orders come directly from the king. I’m not to leave Her Highness unattended. I’m bringing up a cot. I’ll stay in the antechamber here, if she won’t have me around. But someone’s got to keep an eye on her.”

Zella grimaced. She couldn’t exactly defy the king. Still, Her Highness hadn’t wanted Viera near. Did Viera know the truth? She had been closer to Her Highness than anyone until recently. If she didn’t, though, Zella didn’t want her lurking around when Adalind was at her most vulnerable. Come to think of it, she didn’t want that, regardless. Could Zella protect the princess?

“Fine,” she said. “But I’ve got my eye on you.”


	4. Giving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things start heating up.

Zella set her sewing down as a soft knock rang on Her Highness’ chamber door. She got up, stretching her muscles as she walked over to answer it. It had been a long two weeks since the princess had fallen ill, and Zella had more or less stayed by her side the whole time. Her Highness still wasn’t showing any signs of getting better, but she was stubbornly refusing to see a doctor. Well, Zella could respect that. Knowing who and what she was, Adalind probably knew exactly what was wrong with her, and didn’t want any doctors prying into her business, anyway.

Zella gently opened the door to find Serra waiting there.

“Hey, just checking in,” Serra said quietly. “How is she?”

Zella glanced back at the princess’s blanket-shrouded form. “Still sound asleep,” she responded in a whisper, “I just gave her fresh water a bit ago.”

“Where is Viera, anyway? I’m pretty sure this is the first time I’ve been here in the past week that she wasn’t on vigil.”

Zella shrugged. “I suppose even she has to go out for errands occasionally. She’s never long, though. She gave me a dagger, if you can believe it. She said if I see anyone suspicious, I should stab them.”

Serra tried to suppress a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “The two of you, I swear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zella asked, frowning.

“No offense, Zell’, but you can be a little intense sometimes.”

Zella glanced away, blushing.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Serra said, “I think it’s admirable that you’re so dedicated to your duty. Mikhail says that the royal family are the gods’ chosen representatives to the common people, and it’s our job to serve them unquestioningly.”

Zella crossed her arms uncomfortably. This struck far too close to her thoughts as of late. “Do you really believe that, Serra? That seems a little dogmatic, don’t you think?”

Serra shrugged. “It’s the teaching of the Temple. It’s not my place to question it.”

Zella was starting to feel like Serra’s priest was a bad influence on her. Zella shook her head, and glanced back at Adalind’s still slumbering form. “How far does that go, though? I mean, what if the royal family become evil? Is it still our duty to follow them?”

“I mean, maybe it’s not our place to judge that,” Serra said, uncertainly. “After all, they’re only in power by the grace of the gods. If the gods didn’t like what they were doing, they would withdraw their favor, right?”

“I guess,” Zella said.

“Why do you ask? Is there a reason?”

Zella shook her head. How did she explain that the princess of Vernia was an infamous enchantress? “I guess I’m just getting philosophical, cooped up in here like this.”

“Would you like me to take over? Give you some time to get out and do things?”

“No, but thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Things were quiet for a moment, a silence which Zella broke. “So, how are you, anyway? It sounds like you and Mikhail are still doing well.”

Serra sighed dreamily. “Oh, he’s so wonderful, Zell’. I really have to wonder if he’s the one. You’ve been in love; what’s it like?”

Zella raised her brow, perplexed. “What are you talking about? I’ve never had a lover. Well, there was that one boy a few years back, but that was more lust than love, I have to admit.”

Serra rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Your infatuation with Her Highness is completely obvious.”

Zella’s face went a bright red. “Wha—but—wha—what do you mean? Don’t be ridiculous. We’re both women. How would that even work?”

“Like that matters. Come on, Zella, you can’t honestly tell me you’re _that_ clueless, can you?”

“What do—I… what?” Zella sputtered in bemusement.

“Gods, Zella, you _are_. You’re _hopeless_ , you know that?”

Zella couldn’t say the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, considering the Dark Sorceress’ reputation, but… _Zella_ wasn’t like that, was she? She was normal. Not that the idea of falling under the princess’ thrall wasn’t a little bit exciting. But that was a perfectly normal thing for a young woman to think. The exhilaration of danger, right?

Serra shook her head. “You are ridiculous. Anyway, did you want me to get you anything?”

Zella snapped out of her thoughts. “Um, no. I think I’m set for now. If you wanted to bring some supper up later on, though, that would be nice.”

Serra nodded. “Sure. And I meant what I said earlier; if you ever need a break, I can take over for a while.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine for now,” Zella said.

“Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it.” Serra disappeared back through the door, closing it gently behind her.

Zella walked over to her cot and sat down, her mind swirling with confusing possibilities.

Adalind bolted awake, breathing hard as she looked around the dark room. Was she still dreaming? The past six times she’d awoken, she had been. At least she was warm now. The tight embrace of Phaedra’s pet serpent woman had seen to that. Did cobras even kill their prey by constriction? Adalind thought she remembered Lord Kalle saying they didn’t. Well, whatever. She was no longer chilled to the bone. She counted that as a victory.

Her neck ached. She rubbed it absentmindedly. Had she been resting it on the headboard? She was going to feel that later, she suspected. Considering how much her dreams had been saturated with neck pain lately, she supposed she already had. Come to think of it, no wonder she was sleeping in such an awkward position. The bed was tiny. Had it always been this small? Her whole room seemed small. She stood up and promptly conked her head on the ceiling. _Ouch._

After she had a moment to let the room stop spinning, she made her way to the door and stepped out into the caverns’ central chamber. She stretched out to her full height and sighed contentedly, glad to be free of the cramped room. Was she finally awake, then? She wasn’t sure. At the very least, she no longer felt a profound sense of terror at the thought that she might not be. She felt at peace. This was probably a dream, she knew, but if it was, it was a _good_ one. And after weeks of nightmares—admittedly, some _very_ intriguing ones—that was an immense relief.

She headed for the library. She was so excited to study the texts Phaedra had shown her the other night. To think, she was finally going to start studying _real_ magic. Not the paltry light shows that had passed for forbidden knowledge in Vernia. These were the _old_ secrets of the Folk, things humanity wasn’t meant to know. She laughed brightly then, and her joy echoed through the halls. If she’d known that abandoning her humanity was the price of that knowledge, she’d have done it far sooner. She was happier here than she’d ever been in her previous life.

She stepped through the tall double-doors of the library and craned her neck skyward. So many books here. She wasn’t sure she could see the top of the chamber. Floor after floor, endless rings of shelves. It was the second-most exquisite thing she’d ever seen.

At that point, however, the firstmost cleared her throat, and Adalind turned her gaze downward.

“You’re finally awake,” Phaedra said.

Was it worth explaining otherwise? Adalind decided it wasn’t. It would just provoke an argument. She didn’t want to argue with Phaedra. “Good morning, Mistress. How are you today?”

Phaedra smiled. “Better, now that you’re up. I finished your new chambers last night. Would you like to see them?”

Adalind raised an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have awoken me last night?”

Phaedra chuckled. “You needed your beauty sleep, my pet. Your body needs its time to recuperate after what it’s been through.”

“It wasn’t exactly restful,” Adalind said. “I kept waking up in the middle of the night to find that my tail had gone numb from laying on it wrong.”

Phaedra frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that. If I’d known, I would have awoken you. Though that could’ve been a risky proposition on my part.”

It was Adalind’s turn to frown now. “You must know I would never hurt you, Mistress.”

“Not intentionally; of course not. But in your half-asleep state, who knows what could happen?” Phaedra smiled. “Best not to disturb sleeping princesses,” she said teasingly.

“Well, I’m awake now,” Adalind lied.

“That you are. So, new room?”

“Lead the way,” Adalind said cheerfully.

They went back out of the library, and set off down the long, ornate, sunlit hallway. As they went, Adalind glanced out the windows. A dense fog gripped the base of the mountains. She wondered what was down there in that fog. A dense old growth forest? A verdant swamp, full of life? Whatever it was, Adalind knew she wanted to see it. Phaedra’s domain was one of endless beauty and wonder.

Phaedra stopped before an enormous and heavy door. She turned the knob and opened it. Adalind stepped in after her, and felt her jaw drop.

“Do you like it?” Phaedra asked.

“It’s… it’s wonderful. There’s so much. It’s really all for me?”

“All of it.”

“Where did it come from? Did you steal it?”

Phaedra chuckled. “I _would_ raid the vaults of a thousand kingdoms for you, love. But no. For a sorceress of my power, conjuring these accommodations for you was a trivial task.”

Adalind gave a goofy grin. “Where would you even find a thousand kingdoms? I guess there’s always small ones, but I doubt they have that much to give.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Phaedra said, “Then I would have to delve into the buried secrets of the past. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Adalind sighed dreamily. “What did I do to deserve you, Mistress?”

Phaedra got a devious smile on her face. “I know something you can do now.”

Adalind raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Onto your knees.”

Adalind blushed. “I don’t think I can get that far down on just my knees. Besides, shouldn’t you take your clothes off, first?”

“What? Oh!” Now Phaedra was red. “No, that’s not what I—kiss me, you fool.”

Adalind smiled and dropped down so that her face was nearly in line with Phaedra’s. Phaedra leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed Adalind deeply, running her hand through Adalind’s soft curls. Once again, she drew back far too quickly for Adalind’s liking, and Adalind gave a soft whine. But this time, rather than retreating, Phaedra merely began to trace her lips down Adalind’s neck. Adalind closed her eyes again, sighing contentedly.

A sharp knock at the door forced her eyes open, and Phaedra turned away, looking irritated. She opened the door with a mere gesture, revealing a small—at least by Adalind’s standards—doe woman, her eyes cast downward as she nervously clasped her three-fingered hands together before her.

“What is it, Lily?” Phaedra asked irritably, putting her finger under the woman’s chin and drawing her eyes to her own. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” She raised a brow and grinned wickedly. “Unless you were hoping to join in?”

“Ah, no, Mistress, not now,” Lily said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have an urgent message from the queen of Tumnia.”

Phaedra lit up. “Ooh. She took my bait.” She turned to Adalind. “I’m sorry, Princess. It seems that there is no rest for the wicked. At least, not during the day. What say you go take a look at the library? We can pick up where we left off tonight.”

Briefly, Adalind considered turning back time and letting the two of them repeat this, uninterrupted. But she feared losing the thread of the dream. Besides, Phaedra’s work was important, and Adalind was still eager to begin her studies. “Of course, Mistress,” she said.

The three of them parted, and Adalind headed back for the library once more. She was positively buzzing with excitement. It was finally time. She threw open the doors and sat down, picking up a heavy tome from the table. She flipped the pages open—

She found herself in a void of pure thought as the dream dissolved around her. _No!_ No, it wasn’t fair! And just as she was on the verge of unlocking the secrets of the high magics. She forcefully called the dream back into being. Hazily, it emerged around her. Nothing quite had the same definition to it, the same depth, but that was okay. She just had to find out what secrets this library held. She opened the book.

It was blank.

Adalind slumped back in despair, and the dream disappeared entirely.

Zella hadn’t been able to get back into her sewing. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Serra had said. _Am I attracted to Her Highness?_ She wanted to deny it, but her mind kept back back to the princess’ soft curves, her melodic voice, her luscious lips. These were not heterosexual thoughts.

Okay, so clearly, she wasn’t as straight as she thought. Maybe it was for the better, though. After all, Her Highness _was_ the Dark Sorceress. She was renowned for her lecherous corruption of young women like Zella. Clearly, the best way for Zella to do her gods-given duty to the princess was to let her turn Zella into her lustful plaything. That was just the pious thing to do, right?

A soft whine from Her Highness brought Zella’s thoughts back to the present. She stood up from cot and strode over to the bed. Adalind was no longer buried completely under the covers; her head was exposed, and it shone with a slick layer of sweat. Surprised, Zella put her hand to the princess’ forehead. She gasped at the heat. Adalind definitely had a fever. The princess grimaced then, and Zella wondered if she should wake her. Adalind didn’t give her time to consider it, though, as the princess’ eyes fluttered open then. Adalind groaned.

“Your Highness?” Zella asked, “Are you alright?”

“I was just having a good dream, is all,” Adalind murmured.

“You’re really hot,” Zella said.

Adalind blinked in confusion. “What?”

“Um, that is, you—you have a fever, Your Highness,” Zella stammered. “A really bad one.”

“I do feel rather warm.” Adalind flipped the covers off to reveal that her whole body was glistening with sweat. Her underthings were soaked through, and the covers looked damp, too. Zella blushed, looking away bashfully. Adalind raised her brow, but otherwise didn’t comment as she sat up.

“Would you like me to change your sheets, Highness?” Zella asked, forcing herself to look back at the princess. Zella had seen her naked countless times; why did the sight of her scantily clad form affect her so strongly now, all of a sudden?

“That would be lovely, Zella; thank you,” Adalind said. “Actually, could you draw a bath for me first? I’d like to wash up.”

“Perhaps we should call for Lady Serra?” Zella asked.

“Good idea,” Adalind said. “You can go fetch her personally, if you want. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Um, Your Highness… I was told not to leave you alone.”

“What? By whom?”

“By Dame Viera. She’s stepped out.”

“Viera was here?” Adalind asked, sounding surprised.

“I did mention that she was standing watch outside your chambers the past couple of weeks.”

“You did?” Adalind rubbed her eyes. “I must have been more out of it than I thought. Come to think of it, that does sound vaguely familiar.”

“I never could get her to tell me what that was all about, though,” Zella mused.

Adalind sighed. “I know. Enough to know that it’s not worth worrying about. I don’t need protection from her. She need not feel obligated to stick around.”

Zella blinked. Curious. She supposed that a sorceress of her caliber wouldn’t be frightened by much.

“Go ahead,” Adalind said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Adalind sat on the bed as Zella left. Did she really have a fever? She felt fine. Better than fine, really. She hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Maybe she was still running off the high of the dream, but she felt great.

She tried to remember the dream. She remembered the broad strokes, but the details were fading. The thing that bugged her most was her transformation. What had she become? It could be important information, if it matched what she was becoming in reality. All she could remember was that she had been tall and had had a tail. She frowned, trying to remember Kalle’s biology lessons. Most of the animals that fit that description didn’t even live on this continent. Giraffes, elephants, rhinos… Had she had a horn? She might have. She couldn’t remember. Well, that was assuming that she hadn’t been some fae creature. A sphinx or a dragon or a cockatrice or a manticore… Some of the larger species of unicorn might fit the bill. Maybe a roc? No, birds didn’t have that kind of tail. Or did they? Adalind recalled the strange birds she’d seen in the Witching Markets. Some of the creatures that came from Underhill were so strange that she probably couldn’t hope to guess. She sighed. She supposed she’d just have to wait and find out.

The prospect didn’t seem so bad now, at least. She knew it was probably the mind control talking, but she didn’t care. Really, was it such an awful fate? Endless knowledge, arcane power, more beautiful women than any one princess could ever hope to seduce. All she had to do was give up her free will, and she’d already done that. There was no turning back now even if she wanted to, and really, she didn’t. She was resolved to at least enjoy the journey from this point on.

She glanced up at the door. She thought she heard talking. Increasing in volume, no less. She got up and slipped on her nightgown, walking quietly over to the door and putting her ear against it to listen.

“—gave me an order, ma’am.”

“Do you have any idea how much danger you put her in? She could have been killed! Or much, much worse!”

“What did you expect her to do, disobey a direct order from Her Highness?”

“I don’t think you understand just how much danger she could be in.”

“Of course we don’t! You refuse to talk about it!”

“What do you expect me to do, disobey a direct order from His Majesty?”

“Oh, you do _not_ get to be sanctimonious about this and then brush it off when we say the same thing.”

That was enough. Adalind opened the door and cleared her throat. Both of her Ladies-in-Waiting and Viera turned their heads to look. Viera, who looked to have been about to shout a retort at Zella, was the first to break the silence. “Your Highness! You’re feeling better?”

“What are you doing here, Viera? Besides shouting at my Ladies-in-Waiting for doing what I ask of them?”

Viera glanced down shamefully. “I’m sorry, Highness, it’s just—maybe you haven’t heard what’s going on—“

“Of course I have,” Adalind said, interrupting her. “I probably knew before you did. Don’t you think I was the first one His Majesty informed?”

“Right, of course,” Viera said, looking red, “But then surely you must understand how much danger you’re in.”

“Since when do you care? Besides, I don’t fear that witch. And even if I did, you couldn’t protect me.”

“Your Highness, I…” Viera looked hurt. Adalind felt a little guilty, but only a little. “May I speak with you in private, please?”

“Actually, I was just about to take a bath. Ladies?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Serra said, nodding and crossing the room. Zella glanced at Viera, then followed. Viera huffed, and sat down against the outer doorway, crossing her arms. Adalind rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother to tell her to leave. She had better things to do.

Zella opened the door of the washroom and called into the bedroom. “Your Highness, your bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Zella,” Adalind called. She and Serra came into the washroom. Adalind stripped down and handed her clothes to Serra. “Serra, could you get me fresh clothes and then change my sheets while I wash up?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Serra said, taking the offered clothing and returning to the bedroom.

Zella was sure she must be beet-red now. She had been planning on changing Her Highness’ sheets, actually. Was the princess doing this on purpose?

Adalind stepped into the bath and sank into the water. “Mmm, I think you could have heated the water a bit more. It feels nice, though.”

Zella raised her brow and gingerly felt the surface of the water. It was scalding. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Your Highness?”

“Of course,” Adalind said. “Can you hand me the soap?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Do you want help with your hair?”

“That would be lovely, Zella, thank you.”

Zella set to work washing Adalind’s red curls. At least the suds hid most of the princess’ nakedness. Not that she minded the sight, but it seemed impolite to stare. She remembered all the old stories of mortals suffering divine punishment for peeping on the gods. Who’s to say witches weren’t the same? Sure, the Dark Sorceress was fond of surrounding herself with beautiful women, but Zella didn’t want to be presumptuous. She was just a servant, after all. Still, perhaps she should tell her the truth. It was only fair. And Adalind did seem to be recovered from her illness well enough now.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes, Zella?”

The door to the bedroom opened, Serra returning with fresh underclothes and a clean nightgown, as well as extra towels. “Here you are, Your Highness. I’m going to go change your sheets now.”

After a moment, Adalind spoke up. “Were you saying something, Zella?”

“No, nevermind,” Zella said. Not with Serra around, she wasn’t.

She finished washing Adalind’s hair, and went on to helping to wash the rest of her. Zella tried not to stare as she set to work scrubbing. As she ran the loofah over the princess’ lower back, though, she stopped.

“Is something wrong, Zella?”

“It’s… you’ve got some kind of rash back here, it looks like,” Zella said quietly. “Or maybe a burn? The skin looks like it’s sort of peeling.”

Adalind froze. “What do you mean, ‘peeling’?”

“I dunno, it just looks flaky. I’d say it’s just dry, but you’re literally soaking wet right now.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” Adalind said. She didn’t sound convinced.

Zella paused. “Is it… is it something to do with magic?” she asked in a low voice.

Adalind sucked in a sharp breath. “What?” she asked in a sharp whisper.

“Please don’t be angry, Highness. I know your secret. I found that flask in your nightstand. I recognized the symbol.”

Adalind sounded like she was trying not to hyperventilate. “Please, Zella. You—you can’t tell anyone.”

Zella shook her head vigorously. “No, no!” she whispered. “I swear upon my very soul, I would never betray your confidence, Highness. I only want to serve you.”

Adalind slowed her breathing, closing her eyes. “That’s a very serious oath, Lady Zella.”

“I know, Your Highness.”

“I—just—can we talk about this at some other time? I don’t want to risk being overheard.” Adalind said quietly.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Zella said.

Zella finished scrubbing Her Highness in silence.

“I think I’ll just soak for a bit, Zella. Can you and Serra bring supper up here? I don’t think I’m in the mood to eat around people tonight.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Adalind’s eye’s fluttered open. She had slept well the previous night, as much as she had had trouble getting to sleep to begin with. The covers were just too warm. She felt better now, though. Wasn’t that how it always went, with sleep?

She had concluded it was time to get up. As comfortable as the bed was, as much as she wanted to stay in the tempting realm of dreams, she supposed she really ought to go through the motions of returning to normal life now that she was feeling better. Best not to let anyone get suspicious until it was too late. She didn’t _think_ anyone could save her at this point, but she didn’t want to risk it.

She sat up. “Zella?” she murmured, “Did you sleep in here again last night?” She looked over to see Zella’s cot still open, the woman’s sleeping form stirring only slightly in her slumber. Zella was cute, she noted. Her strawberry blonde hair was disheveled, streaming out around her face like rays of sunlight. Her soft lips were gently parted, breathing in and out in a slow rhythm. Adalind had never really noticed before how beautiful Zella was. She’d always tried not to think of her Ladies-in-Waiting that way; she’d tried not to associate with them at all in any more familiar a manner than was absolutely necessary for them to do their jobs. The memory of Katia still stung too much.

But now, Adalind had to wonder if Zella wasn’t just as doomed as she was. What did the other woman think about that? Did it excite her as much as it did Adalind? Did it bring the same rush of exhilaration and longing? The same carnal desires?

Last night, she had sworn a soul pact. Surely, Zella realized the gravity of making such oaths in the presence of magic users. Adalind might not be fullblooded fae, but her magic just as dangerous as any one of the Folk in the eyes of the Temple. Besides, now she belonged to the Dark Sorceress. Did Zella realize that by swearing herself to Adalind, she was effectively forfeiting her soul to that witch?

Carefully, Adalind got up and went over to Zella’s cot, prodding her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hnn?” Zella mumbled in her sleep.

“Wake up, Zella,” Adalind said.

Zella opened her eyes. “What? Oh, Your Highness.” She sat up. “Good morning. You’re feeling better, then?”

“I am,” Adalind said.

Zella raised her hand toward Adalind’s forehead. “Do—do you mind?”

Adalind rolled her eyes. “Go ahead.”

Zella placed her hand on the princess’ forehead. “Hmm. Yeah, you still feel really warm,” she said quietly. “Still, I don’t presume to be more knowledgeable than you on this matter. You’re the expert here.”

Adalind hardly felt that she qualified as an expert merely for having history with the study of magic. The kind of spells Phaedra was prone to casting were not the kind in any spellbooks that could be found in the capital, even in the sketchier parts of town. “It’s certainly not a mundane fever,” she whispered.

“I assumed as much.”

“We probably shouldn’t talk too much about it here,” Adalind murmured. “I don’t know if Viera’s out there. Why don’t you meet me in the gardens around two o’clock this afternoon? We can talk more there.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Do you think Serra would notice the rash?”

“I don’t know,” Zella said. “I can manage your corset on my own, I think, though.”

“Very well. Has it changed at all?”

Zella went around and took a close look at Adalind’s lower back. “Not that I can see, other than looking drier, obviously.”

“Alright. Best to save this discussion for later, then.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

Zella stepped out into the sunlight, immediately appreciating the way the warmth banished the chill of the shade. Autumn had arrived in force, and Zella feared that she was a tad underdressed. Mostly staying inside for the past two weeks had messed up her sense of the weather. The palace might not be the perfect temperature all of the time, but it was certainly warmer than some castles she’d visited.

Adalind was visible near the far end of the gardens, sitting on a bench with a loom, her back to Zella. Zella walked carefully along the flagstone path to the benches, and stopped before the princess, giving a curtsey. “Your Highness,” she said.

Adalind started, nearly dropping her weaving. “Oh, Zella! You startled me. You’re as stealthy as a cat, you know that?”

Was she implying something? “Oh, I’m sorry, Highness. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Zella. I guess I’m just a little jumpy. I’ve been trying to lose my tail all day.”

Zella tilted her head. “Lose… your tail?”

“Um, I guess that could have been phrased better. Viera won’t let me out of her sight.”

“Oh!” Zella said. “I thought… well, nevermind. At least you managed to ditch her for now, though.”

Adalind gave a slight shake of her head, then a slight tilt back in the direction Zella had come. “Don’t look now, but she’s up on the balcony back there.”

“Wow, she just doesn’t give up, does she?”

“It’s a problem.”

“Could you speak with His Majesty and see if he’ll call her off?”

Adalind frowned. “I suppose I could, but I doubt he’d listen.”

“Couldn’t you _make_ him listen?”

“You mean—” Adalind had a look of realization. “Zella! Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really think I have the power to do that?”

True, Zella realized, trying to ensorcell the king would probably bring the Temple down on them.

“Besides,” Adalind said quietly, “I wouldn’t even if I could. That would be terrible.”

Zella frowned. “I’m sorry, Your Highness; I should have known better.” Of course. Adalind wasn’t evil or anything. Well, okay, she _was_ , but in a _fun_ way, not an _evil_ way. “So, do you think she can hear us?”

“I think we’re fine, as long as we’re not too loud.”

“Oh, good,” Zella said.

“So, was there anything in particular you wanted to know?”

“Not really. Well, maybe one thing. How long?”

“Only a couple of weeks. I got myself wrapped up in it a few days before I caught the chills.”

Zella was confused for a moment, then realized that Adalind had thought Zella had meant her latest scheme. “Oh, no, I mean, how long have you been doing magic?”

“Oh!” Adalind looked surprised at the line of questioning. “Well, since I was a kid, to be honest. That was when I first started studying it, anyway.”

“Wow, from that young?” Zella asked.

“Yeah. I guess it started with simple curiosity. I’ve always really loved learning, so the idea that us mortals aren’t good enough for some knowledge, that it’s only for a privileged few, never really sat right with me, you know?” Adalind sighed, glancing down at her weaving. “Maybe that sounds hypocritical, coming from a princess. I have to admit it sounds a little childish, saying it aloud.”

“I don’t think it’s childish. I think it’s admirable.”

Adalind smiled. “Thank you, Zella. That means a lot.” She frowned. “Can I ask _you_ a question?”

“Of course.”

“Aren’t you afraid, Zella? You realize you’ve effectively given yourself to the Dark Sorceress. Doesn’t that worry you at all?”

Zella thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Well, I mean, okay, I have to admit it’s a _little_ scary, but it’s also a little exciting. I… I think I’m looking forward to it.”

Adalind bit her lip, glancing away. “I feel the same way,” she mumbled.

“So we understand each other, then. Why not have a time of it?”

“Exactly.” Adalind looked at Zella, smiling. “I’m glad to have you on this journey with me, Zella. It’s nice not to have to bear this secret alone.”

“I’m glad you’re letting me share it with you, Your Highness.”

A knock at Zella’s bedroom door startled her awake. “Wha—who is it?”

“It’s Serra. Can I come in?”

“Oh, um, sure,” Zella said, sitting up in bed. Her room was dark. Had she been asleep that long?

Serra stepped in, holding a candle. She lit the sconce by the door. “You _were_ asleep. Since when do you take naps during the day? Deliberately, I mean. That thing in the gardens doesn’t count.”

Zella was confused for a moment, before remembering her cover story of two weeks prior. “Not exactly the day now, is it?” she asked instead.

“No, it’s not. You missed supper.”

“I suppose I’ll have to grab something from the kitchens. I was just so tired this afternoon.”

“It’s probably that awful cot you’ve been sleeping on. I’m glad the princess is feeling better. It’s about time you got back to sleeping in your own bed.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Zella said, yawning. “Did you need anything, or were you just checking in on me?”

“Just checking in. It’ll be a while before the princess needs us, I think. She said she was doing some light reading. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t oversleep again.”

“Alright, then. I’m awake.”

“Good. If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters.”

“Sounds good,” Zella said. Serra nodded and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Zella got out of bed and stretched. She felt much better. Truth be told, it was unusual for her to get tired during the day. She didn’t think she’d been sleeping _that_ poorly the past two weeks. Maybe she’d just been too distracted by everything that was going on to notice.

She froze mid-stretch. _Or…_

She thought back to Her Highness’ strange comment in the gardens the other day. Her mind flashed forward to breakfast this morning. Normally, the princess didn’t speak much with her Ladies-in-Waiting at meals, but this morning…

This morning she’d offered Zella her kipper.

_Oh._

Everything made sense to Zella in that instant. She knew what was happening. Her strange lethargy. The odd cravings for cheese she’d been having lately. That hour she’d spent staring blankly at a wall the previous night. She should have guessed sooner. After all, it was only a matter of time, since she promised herself to the Dark Sorceress.

Zella just hoped she wasn’t going to start craving mice. That might be a little too weird, even for her.


	5. A Partial Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a... well, you read the title.

Adalind closed the door behind her and carried the heavy tome over to her desk, plopping it down before her. It was the most comprehensive bestiary she had been able to find in the library. She wasn’t sure how much use it would be at this point, especially since it certainly didn’t have the full range of creatures that lived Underhill, but she might be able to find something useful.

She was about halfway through the table of contents when a sharp knock rang at her door. She sighed. “Who is it?”

“We need to talk, Your Highness,” Viera said.

“Go away, Viera.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Adalind got up and walked over to stand beside the door. “What if I ordered you to leave?”

“Sorry, His Majesty’s orders supersede yours. Anyway, I have a few things I need to say, and you’re going to hear them, whether you want to listen or not, Your Highness.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because I’m trying to apologize.”

Adalind froze. “Apologize? For what?”

“I never should have tried to drive you away. That was foolish of me. I thought that by putting some distance between us, I could lessen the pain of losing you forever. But it just made it worse, for both of us. I really want back what we used to have.”

Adalind opened the door, frowning uncertainly. “So this wasn’t about your lover, then?”

“What? No. Vintus and I were never even together. Between you and me, I can’t stand the man.”

“Then why did you say you were?”

Viera crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable. “I was afraid you were going to abandon your duty out of pity for me. I’m not worth it.”

Adalind was quiet as this revelation swirled through her mind.

“Are you still cross with me?” Viera asked.

“Yes, I think I am,” Adalind said.

“That’s fair. I lied to you.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s… oh, how do I explain this?” Adalind sighed. How could Viera think so little of herself? Adalind was angry with herself for believing it so easily. And now it was too late. She didn’t mind that her fate was sealed, but she hated that she couldn’t see any way out of this without hurting Viera. “I think I’m going to need some space, Vie’. Give me a little space, and a little time. I need to think things through. But we’ll talk soon.” She hugged Viera.

“T—thanks, Addie,” Viera said, her voice wavering. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Adalind said. She drew back and shut the door between them, taking an unsteady breath of her own. Now she was the one lying.

Viera paced back and forth before the entrance to the library. Ideally, she’d sit in on Adalind’s lessons, but she wanted to give the princess the space she had asked for. Viera had to admit, though, after weeks of keeping near constant guard on Adalind, it was starting to get a little mind-numbing. She had been listening at the door earlier, but the maids kept giving her strange looks, and anyway, there was only so much she could stand to hear about ancient tax laws before it got even more mind-numbing than the silence.

She checked her watch. Still nearly an hour to go. She could have sworn she’d been here longer. This was going to be another long day, wasn’t it? She wished she could be close to Adalind. That would make it all worth it. But Her Highness had said she needed space, so Viera would oblige. She just hoped Adalind didn’t need too much time.

A light tap on her shoulder caused Viera to jump, her hand going to her blade as she swirled around. Seeing who it was, she sighed and let her hand drop. “Bidelia, Favio. What do you want?” Two of Vernia’s youngest knights, neither was terribly well-known to Viera, but she knew that they were among the few that had stayed at the capital when His Majesty sent troops to reinforce the border.

Bidelia cleared her throat. “His Majesty has requested your presence in the throne room, Dame Viera. We’re to cover you while you’re gone.”

Viera’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t expected that. Was this an update on Phaedra’s status?

“Did His Majesty say what it was about?”

“That he did not,” Favio said. “Just that you’re to take as much time as you need, and we’ll cover you until you’re finished.”

“Of course,” Viera said. “I will report to the throne room at once.”

Approaching the throne room a few minutes later, Viera paused as the door opened, and Adalind’s brother Sterling stalked out. “Your Highness,” Viera murmured, giving a slight bow as he passed. She proceeded into the throne room and knelt before the king. “My liege.”

“Dame Viera. You may rise.”

Viera got to her feet.

“How go things with my daughter?” Firmin asked.

“I spoke with her a few days ago and explained myself. I think she accepted my apology, but she said she needs some space to think about things.”

“Hmm,” Firmin said, “That could be worse, I suppose. She’s tolerating your presence, at least?”

“Yes. Moreso since we’ve spoken, though I’m still keeping my distance, as she asked.”

“Well, I trust that you will resolve this to the best of your abilities. Which brings me to the reason I called you here.”

Viera tilted her head. “My liege?”

“The Ibyrnians have been investigating how the Dark Sorceress was able to get to Prince Sverre. However, they’ve run into a slight obstacle. They think that there might be clues in Sverre’s correspondences; however, they don’t have access to many of the letters he sent. I want you to find out if Adalind still has his letters, and if so, if they have anything suspicious in them.”

Viera frowned. “What if she doesn’t want to share them?”

“Hopefully, that will not be the case. I won’t ask you to go behind her back. If you can’t persuade her to hand them over, let me know, and I’ll find someone else who can get them. But I wanted to ask you, because, generally, I believe she trusts you.”

“Recent events notwithstanding, I would agree.”

“Good. If you can turn anything else up that might be helpful in this matter, or with keeping Adalind out of the hands of that vile witch, you have my blessing to look into it. Sir Favio and Dame Bidelia have been assigned to assist you as necessary. Remember, I’m counting on you to keep the princess safe.”

“Of course, my liege. I will not fail you.”

“Very good. Then you are dismissed.”

Viera left the throne room and headed back to the library, turning the conversation over in her mind. _Hmm._ She checked her watch. She still had time before Adalind was finished with her history lesson. She turned and headed for Zella’s quarters. She wasn’t sure if Lady Zella would be available to speak, but Viera could leave a note, at least. She wasn’t sure what was going on there, but Zella seemed to be closer with Her Highness lately, so maybe she could assist Viera with her assignment. Or at least tell her how Adalind was doing.

Reaching Zella’s bedchamber, Viera gave a knock on the door.

“Hnn?” Zella said in an inquisitive tone. “Come in. Who is it?”

Viera opened the door to find Zella sprawled out awkwardly across her bed, laying in a sunbeam. Sitting next to her, just out of the light…

“Why do you have a giant platter of cheese on your bed?”

Zella looked up in Viera’s direction. “Why wouldn’t I have a giant platter of cheese on my bed?”

“It’s, um…” Viera wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

Zella snatched a piece of Ibyrnian cheese from atop the platter and stuffed it in her mouth. She sat up and stretched. “What can I help you with, ma’am?”

“Where did you even get that much cheese?”

“The kitchens, obviously. Surely you didn’t come here to talk about food.”

Viera ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then what did you want?”

“I wanted to talk about Her Highness.”

“Why not talk to her, then?”

“You know she doesn’t want me around right now.”

“Well, then, maybe I don’t want you around, either.”

“Ugh. Must you be so difficult, m’lady? I just want to make sure she’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah. She mentioned she’s not actually angry with you anymore. I honestly didn’t realize she was to begin with. What was that all about?”

“I… I said something foolish. It doesn’t matter now. I hope. Look, you care about protecting her, right? And she seems to trust you. I’ve been asked by His Majesty to investigate any possible threats to her safety. Why don’t you help?”

Zella thought for a moment, then fixed her gaze on Viera, looking serious. “What would you need from me?”

Viera sighed. “At the moment, I’m not actually sure. I guess I mostly just wanted to know if I could count on your help if anything came up. Although… Come to think of it, there is one thing. Could you ask her about her letters from Prince Sverre? The Ibyrnians are doing their own investigation, and I was asked to check Sverre’s correspondences for them. But I’d rather not bother her personally right now.”

Zella looked contemplative. “Sure, I could ask her, at least. Was there anything else?”

“Not for now,” Viera said.

“Say, aren’t you supposed to be guarding her around the clock?”

“I do have help. That said, I should get back to it.” Viera began to step out, then glanced back. “You _are_ going to return that platter to the kitchens when you’re done with it, right?”

“Sure, sure,” Zella mumbled, grabbing another piece of cheese.

Viera rubbed her forehead, aggravated, and decided not to press the point.

Adalind was awoken from what she was fairly certain had been a pleasant dream by the sound of knocking on her bedroom door. She groaned. “Just a minute.” There was something to be said for being sick, she decided, if only because people didn’t come by knocking at her door first thing in the morning. Admittedly, she did enjoy having some privacy, now that she was feeling better. She had been having _fantasies_ lately—the sort best not spoken of in polite company. Or at all, for a proper princess. On the other hand, the knowledge that Viera was only a room away made it hard to really let her mind wander freely. She wished the knight wasn’t on such high alert. Adalind dreaded the prospect of trying to hide her transformation from Viera as it progressed into its later stages.

Adalind got up out of bed and grabbed her corset and loosely slipped it on, buttoned but unlaced, then put on her nightgown over it. Zella had agreed that the best way to hide the “rash” from Serra was to just slip the corset on over it before she arrived. Adalind couldn’t help but think it seemed a little suspicious of her, but Serra hadn’t said anything yet. It probably helped that Zella was picking up a lot of the slack herself, leaving Serra to more impersonal duties, like delivering messages for the princess.

Adalind opened the door to find Zella standing there. Viera sat at the desk in the room with her back to them, looking just a little too tense to pass for casual.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Zella said. “I hope I’m not disturbing your sleep?”

She was, of course, but better that than to have someone see something they shouldn’t. “Not at all, Zella. It’s time I got up, anyway.” Adalind ushered Zella in and closed the door behind her. They walked over to the wardrobe, and Adalind removed the corset. “How is it?” she asked in a whisper.

“It’s spread a bit,” Zella said quietly. “I have to say, it looks pretty gross.”

“What does it look like?” She still had yet to find anything useful in the bestiaries. She was starting to think that it was simply too early for anything conclusive.

“Just, the same, but moreso. Really dry and flaky.”

“Hmm. Alright, then, I suppose I’d better get dressed.”

“Did you have anything particular in mind that you wanted to wear today?” Zella asked at a normal volume.

“Not really. I’m pretty much stuck in here, anyway.”

“Fair enough. I’ll find something.” Zella lowered her voice. “Oh, by the way, Dame Viera was asking if you still had your old letters from Prince Sverre. Apparently, the Ibyrnians are still investigating the circumstances of his disappearance.”

“Hmm,” Adalind said quietly, “Thanks for the heads-up. I don’t think there’s anything incriminating in them, but I’d better have a look before I hand them off.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Zella said as she tugged on the laces of Adalind’s corset.

“Oof, a little tight there, Zella.”

“Really? Sorry, Your Highness.”

“I dunno, it just feels uncomfortable on my skin. I wonder if I could get away with leaving it off.”

“Well, as you said, you aren’t really going anywhere. Unless you mind being seen around the castle without it, it would probably be okay.”

“Oh, leave it on for now. But maybe loosen it just a bit.”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Zella, could I ask you to do a favor for me?”

“Oh? Of course, Your Highness. What did you want?”

“I’m starting to feel really cooped up in the castle here. I would love to go to the markets, but I don’t think Viera would like that idea very much. If I gave you some money, could you buy me something? Anything, really. Jewelry, a book, a trinket, whatever. Just something different.”

“You know, I think Serra mentioned wanting to go to the market today,” Zella said as she rifled through the wardrobe.

“You can take her if you want. If I was going myself, I might try to find something magical, but I wouldn’t ask you to risk that.”

“Where do you even go in town for magical artifacts?” Zella asked in a whisper. “I didn’t know you could get them around here. Short of the Witching Markets, maybe. Is that it?”

“Oh, no,” Adalind said. “There are a few places in town where… sketchier wares can be found. Sometimes they have magical stuff. Rarely. I wouldn’t go to the Witching Markets casually. I’ve actually only been to there once, in fact.”

“Really? You?”

Adalind felt herself go red. What was that supposed to mean?

“What were they like?” Zella asked.

“Beautiful and fascinating, but also kind of scary,” Adalind said. “I saw so many amazing things. But it would be so easy to get lost there, and things just get stranger as you go deeper.”

“I guess I should take them seriously if a sorceress of your prowess is that wary of them.”

Adalind giggled. “Really, I’m nothing special, Zella. You just haven’t met many sorceresses. To be fair, neither have I. It’s a lonely field, here in Vernia, at least. Besides, have you even seen me cast a spell?”

“I did, once, as a matter of fact. I’d love to see you do more, though.”

Huh. She wondered what it had been. “Maybe sometime. We have to be discreet, though.”

“Well, of course.” Zella finished adjusting the ruffles on Adalind’s dress. “Ta-da. What do you think?”

“It looks fine,” Adalind said, looking in the mirror at the simple blue dress. She’d never liked that dress.Perhaps she could make up for the inelegance with some nice gloves. The dress was actually somewhat uncomfortable, too, but she suspected that that would be the case, whatever she wore.

“I’m glad you like it,” Zella said. “So, a trinket, any trinket?”

“Or several. I’m not picky. Just have fun picking something out, okay?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

“Come on, I’ll give you some money.”

“Ooh, we should stop at this one,” Serra said.

“Have you been here before?” Zella asked. She didn’t recognize the small antiques shop, but then, she usually didn’t do her shopping in this part of town.

“Absolutely!” Serra said. “I used to go here all the time. They’ve always got great stuff. Maybe I can find something nice for Mikhail here.”

“Maybe,” Zella said, stepping inside the surprisingly spacious shop. “Do you think Her Highness has been here before?”

Serra shrugged. “Maybe. You know she’s not very forthcoming about these things. Or she didn’t used to be, anyway. You two have gotten closer lately; you’d know better than me.”

Zella looked around. “Wow, there’s so much.”

“I know, right? I’m going to go browse.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to help me find something for Her Highness?”

“I’m sure you know better than I do what she’d want, anyway.” Serra wandered off.

Zella looked around. The shop was huge. There were tall stacks of books, racks stocked with fine ceramics, shelves filled with all sorts of knickknacks, and old wooden furniture everywhere. She wandered down an aisle lined in shelves covered in wooden sculptures. Some of them appeared quite old. None of them really called out to her, though. She turned a corner and went down another aisle, this one filled with metal pots and pans. She lingered briefly on an old brass oil lamp, but decided against it.

Perhaps ten minutes of further browsing later, she wandered over to the counter, which a young clerk sat behind, reading a book. Zella bent down and looked into the glass case at the front of the counter, which held a variety of old jewelry. There were necklaces, gems, earrings, bracelets, and more. Zella’s eyes were drawn to a beautiful golden ring with an inset jewel of a deep and brilliant green. _Ah, if only Her Highness was here._ Zella thought the ring absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t sure if it would fit the princess’ finger. _Hmm._ Come to think of it, she was a sorceress, right? She could probably make it fit.

Zella cleared her throat. “Miss? I’d like to purchase that ring.”

The clerk looked up from her book. “Hmm? Oh, sorry, I didn’t even see you there.” She got up and leaned down, unlocking the case. “Which one?”

Zella pointed to the one she was interested in. “That one, please.”

“Do you want to pay now?” the clerk asked, showing Zella the price tag.

“Sure.” It was expensive, but well within the budget she’d been given.

A few minutes later, Zella found Serra looking through a crate of books in the corner of the store. “How are you coming, Serra? I got something for the princess.”

“Huh?” Serra asked, looking up from the philosophical treatise she was examining. “Oh, I think I’ll be a little while yet.”

“How much longer?” Zella asked. She was starting to feel restless.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably at least ten or twenty minutes. There’s so much in here. Why don’t you go browse some more?”

“I think I’ve already seen everything I care to, honestly, Serra.”

“You can’t have seen everything. Anyway, I won’t be long. I just want to make sure these are authentic.”

Zella sighed, looking around the store. She supposed she could find some way to occupy the time.

“Lord Kalle? May I ask a question?”

Kalle looked up from his writing slate, where he had been attempting to diagram the life cycle of the common house fly. “Of course, Your Highness. What is it?”

“How does this creation of new life happen, exactly? Is it like the stone animals, where it requires a seed?”

“Excellent question, Your Highness. That is actually a matter of some scholarly debate. Ancient Uropian philosophers believed that simpler forms of life are built upon the basic elements which make up our world, and thus are relatively trivial to generate spontaneously. Let me show you what I mean.” He walked around the table to a cabinet, where he withdrew a box full of glass marbles. “Remember what we learned about the atomic shapes?”

“I don’t recall spheres being among them,” Adalind said.

“Of course not; it’s an approximation. Allow me to demonstrate.” He dropped the box of marbles on the desk before her. It kicked up a cloud of dust, and she sneezed. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Highness. I really need to clean my cupboards. But here, take a handful of the marbles.”

Adalind did as he asked.

“Now drop them back into the container.”

She did, and watched as they settled into place.

“Note how each marble finds its place in an orderly pattern naturally. They don’t need to be told where to go; the pattern is a consequence of their fundamental shape. So too, it is with the atoms of the five elements. When the substance of nature is disturbed, it is only natural that it should settle into patterns, among them simple life forms.”

Adalind tilted her head. “Then why do the stone effigies need a seed to take form?”

“A curious thought, indeed,” Kalle said, picking up the box and returning it to the cupboard. “It might be that the inanimate abstraction of living matter is more complex to create than life itself.”

“I’ve seen sculptors make statues, but never have I seen them make people,” Adalind mused.

“Well, with people, it’s different, of course. We are far more sophisticated than, say, clams, for instance.”

“I’ve never seen anyone create a clam, either, though. How do you know the crystal formations you showed me weren’t made the same way? Maybe they were alive once.”

Kalle scoffed. “Your Highness, they are made from stone. How would they have petrified? Magic?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not—” Kalle stopped in the middle of raising a finger in protest. He stroked his mustache contemplatively. “Hmm, yes, that is interesting, actually. I daresay that line of thought might bear further investigation. I will get back to you on that. Your Highness, have you ever considered becoming a natural philosopher?”

“I can’t say I have,” Adalind murmured, scratching at her collarbone absentmindedly.

“It wouldn’t be a first. Frodhe, the scholar prince of Revern, was famous for his extensive publications on entomology.”

“I don’t really think that’s my kind of lifestyle,” Adalind said, scratching her forearm. “Is it warm in here, or is it just me?”

“Oh, that will be the cauldron. Sorry, Your Highness. I’d nearly forgotten about it.” He wandered over to the counter, where a cauldron full of some elixir had been steaming for the past half hour.

Adalind wasn’t sure why she was so itchy suddenly. She peeled back her glove, and her eyes went wide as she saw that the skin on her wrist was starting to take on a dry, flaky look. _Uh oh._ “Um, Lord Kalle, I don’t think I’m feeling very well suddenly. Do you mind ending early for the day?”

Kalle looked up at her. “Hmm? Oh, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” Adalind squirmed as she tried not to scratch her arm, “I’m feeling really, really itchy suddenly. I think I might be having an allergic reaction, actually.”

“That would be the dust. Sorry, Highness.” Kalle frowned. “I hope that was dust. Did I ever finish cleaning the residue from that last experiment, come to think of it?”

“What?” Adalind yelped. “What are you talking about?”

Kalle ran over to another counter, his hands raised defensively. “Now, don’t panic, Your Highness. It’s just that I was experimenting with a strong irritant extracted from Rotinalian itch beetles the other week, and—”

“ _Itch beetles?_ ” Adalind asked incredulously.

“I thought I had it all cleaned, but evidently not. Don’t panic. I have just the thing for situations such as this!” He pulled a rope, and Adalind heard a sound overhead.

She looked up, right into the outpour of an enormous bucket of water.

Adalind stretched out and sighed, taking in the warmth of the sun. She still itched—a revelation that had led Lord Kalle to sheepishly admit that perhaps it wasn’t itch beetles after all—but the cool air felt good on her skin. Not that it was really that cool. It was surprisingly warm for this time of year. Still, the fresh air was nice.

Suddenly, though, she found her light being blocked. Viera cleared her throat.

“What is it, Viera?” Adalind grumbled, opening her eyes to see the knight standing over her.

“I’m sorry; I wanted to give you space; it’s just, you’ll catch your death of cold out here. It’s freezing.”

“It is?” Adalind sat up, looking around the garden courtyard. “It seems perfectly warm to me.” Come to think of it, Viera looked like she was bundled up.

“And just why, exactly, are you soaking wet, Your Highness?”

“Well, I was learning natural philosophy from Lord Kalle, you see—“

Viera put up a hand. “Ah. Say no more. But that doesn’t explain why you’re out here in the cold in those drenched clothes.”

“I was trying to dry them.”

“Why not take them off first?”

Adalind raised a brow. “I think people would talk if I was out here in my unmentionables.”

Viera went red. “I mean, why not get a change of clothes?”

“Oh, my ladies-in-waiting are out, and I didn’t want to be stuck in my room until they got back.”

“Surely there’s something simple you could wear.” Viera sat down on the flagstone next to Adalind.

Adalind shrugged. “I don’t know. Fresh air sounded nice. Besides, it’s not that cold, is it?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better. You?”

“I—” Viera sighed. “Fine. Just getting frustrated with my lack of progress investigating this whole situation with Prince Sverre.”

“Father has you doing that _and_ guarding me? He works you too hard.”

“Please, Your Highness, this is serious.”

“I know. He surely can’t expect you to be in multiple places at once.”

“That’s not what I—look, did Zella remember to ask you about those letters?”

“Yeah, I was going to check for them later tonight.”

“Well, I appreciate that.”

The two of them were silent for a while.

“Really, Addie, you should go put on dry clothes.”

“You’re not going to let up about that, are you?”

“It’s my responsibility to keep you safe. That includes from yourself, apparently.”

“Oh, alright. Give me a hand?”

Viera got up, offered Adalind a hand, and helped her up, as well. “Your skin is so warm. You’re not getting another fever, are you?”

“I’m not sure the first one ever went away.”

“Do you mind?” Viera moved her hand toward Adalind’s forehead meaningfully. Adalind nodded her assent. Viera felt it. “Yipe, that’s hot! You should be back in bed, Princess.”

“I feel fine!”

“Bed. That’s an order, Your Highness.”

Adalind crossed her arms, grinning. “You can’t order me around. I’m the princess.”

“I can when it comes to matters of your health and safety.”

“Fine.” Adalind rolled her eyes. “But you’re playing a dangerous game, Vie’.” She bopped a surprised Viera playfully on the nose and turned to head inside.

Viera knocked on Adalind’s chamber doors. “You are in there, right, Your Highness?”

“Yes, Viera. You know, if you want me to get rest, it would be easier if you didn’t bother me.”

“Sorry, Your Highness. You know I’m only worried about you.”

Adalind sighed audibly. “You can come in, if that makes it easier.”

Viera opened the door slightly, glancing inside. Adalind was sitting up in bed, looking at her. “I don’t want to bother you,” Viera said.

“It’s fine, Viera.”

Viera came in and grabbed a chair, sitting next to the bed. “I’m sorry. It’s just, this is all so scary.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be. Sorry I’m not being more cooperative. I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

Viera narrowed her eyes. “Is that what this is about? Really? Why didn’t you say so? You’re being silly.”

“Because you would tell me I’m being silly. Besides, I’m really not worried. I think you overestimate that witch. I don’t fear her.”

“Your Highness, be reasonable. She—” Viera turned her head at a sound from the antechamber. She tensed, then relaxed when she recognized Zella’s voice.

“…don’t see why you’re so upset. It’s not like _you_ got kicked out.”

“I’m not talking to you, Zella,” came Serra’s voice from the next room. Serra opened the door.

Zella gaped, looking at Viera. “You! What are you doing in here?”

“Relax, Zella,” Adalind said, “I said she could stay and keep me company.”

“Well, okay,” Zella said uncertainly. “Why are you in bed at this time of day?”

“Apparently, I still have a fever,” Adalind said. “How did the shopping trip go?”

Serra groaned. “She got herself banned from the antique shop in the southeast part of town.”

“It’s not like it was my fault.”

“I saw you. That was totally your fault. I have never seen so much chaos.”

“I did buy you something first, though!” Zella said. She handed a small package to Adalind, who opened it to find a golden ring inside.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous, Zella. Um, I’m not sure it’ll fit me, though. It looks kind of big.” Viera realized, to her bemusement, that Adalind was wearing gloves in bed.

“Well, um, I mean, when you’re buying used, who knows?” Zella sputtered.

“Why are you wearing gloves in bed, Your Highness?” Viera asked.

Viera could have sworn that Adalind’s eyes went as wide as a frightened deer for just a fraction of a second. “My hands were cold, of course,” the princess said.

“Your hands were cold,” Viera repeated. Now she had the chills again, too?

“Yes.”

Serra cleared her throat. “Um, Your Highness, would you mind if I stepped out?”

“Feel free, Serra.”

“Yes, well, it seems like you really aren’t feeling all that well, so maybe I should take my leave, as well,” Viera said.

“Fair enough.” Adalind shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted me to get some rest.”

Viera excused herself, closing the door behind her. Between this business with the Dark Sorceress and Her Highness’ illness, she was just about at her wits’ end.


End file.
